Body, Mind and Soul
by Nvrmore
Summary: There are other people out there who have been affected by the demon. Are they all corrupted, or does Sam have a chance, and a new ally?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or anything related to it, though I do have a picture of Metallicar on my cell, and I own my cell. Does that qualify me for anything? 

A/N: Spoiler's abound. I assume that, if you're reading this, you enjoy the show and you've seen almost every episode, including those in season 2. In addition, there are references to J.A. Carlton's stories Legacy and Hollow as well as her OC Laura. Check out those stories, and her other wonderful stories. (I'd post the link, but I haven't figured out how to do that yet, sorry.)

Special thanks to J.A. Carlton. Thanks for letting me borrow and play in your 'verse. Thank you also for beta-ing, encouraging, and giving me suggestions to improve the story. Seriously, "big, blue ocean" became much more interesting thanks to you.

Thanks also to Mom, my editor extraordinaire. And my sister. Thank you both for the encouragement. (Wow, I suddenly feel like I'm at an awards show.)

All left over goofs are my own. Enjoy.

Body, Mind and Soul By: Nevermore

Kaitlyn Ross had just checked herself into the local motel and was filling up her car with gas when she, not for the first time this week, or day even, felt herself being watched. It was not the pleasant kind of being watched as when she was being checked out by the cute gas station attendant. The thing that bothered her was that she couldn't sense who was doing the watching or the intent behind it, and it left her feeling nervous and vulnerable. She tried to chalk it up to nerves. Her upcoming rendezvous had a lot riding on things going well. She had even dared to hope, at one point, that the men she was preparing to meet had decided that they wanted to find out more about her before meeting her and were tailing her. She quickly decided that wasn't the case as she knew she would be able to sense them more clearly by their emotions. The only thing she felt when she stretched out her mind was a cold kind of emptiness. And anticipation. Knowing she wouldn't see anything, she took another look around the gas station before getting back in her car and heading to Harvell's Roadhouse.

The Roadhouse had a slightly rundown feel to it, but it was welcoming. Being out, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, she imagined the patrons would be biker types or truck drivers, a little rough around the edges, but a close knit and fairly loyal community. When she walked through the door, there wasn't anything that particularly surprised her. It was evening and the place was full, loud, and a bit smoky. As a few patrons glanced in her direction, she felt the initial judgment from most of the patrons that she was an outsider not worth much attention unless they could get lucky. She smiled slightly to herself; it was sadly flattering to be considered attractive, even by drunk men who wouldn't remember seeing her the next day.

She stopped by the bar to order her drink and then looked around to see if the men, the Winchester brothers, were there yet. While she looked around, she prodded a bit with her mind, feeling out the presences of those in the bar. It didn't take her long to find what she was looking for. She had never been this close to another one of "the chosen," as she had come to think of them, and Sam was a veritable psychic beacon. "The chosen" were those somehow bound by fire and a demon. She still didn't understand it all, but she was hoping that by meeting Sam and Dean, she'd be able to give them some answers, they'd be able to give her some and, maybe, they'd be able to come up with some new ones. She was just about to head in the direction she felt Sam to be in, when she felt it again. That other presence was there, watching. Frustrated and not a little afraid, she scanned the bar again, still knowing she wouldn't be able to find anything, though admittedly, not sure what she should be looking for. She couldn't even pinpoint a direction from which the presence was coming. She did, however, hear the faintest of laughs that she was pretty sure was only in her head.

She nearly jumped out of her skin and spun around when the bar tender tapped her shoulder.

"Woe, honey," the bartender held up her hands to show she intended no harm. "You okay? You look a little spooked."

"Yeah." Kaitlyn sighed and offered an apologetic smile. "Yeah. Sorry, just a little jumpy lately."

"You sure you don't want something stronger than a pop?"

Kaitlyn nodded and chuckled, "Yeah, no drinking and driving; I don't have a chaperone tonight, but thanks."

"Okay, hon. I'm Ellen. You need anything, you let me know."

"Thanks." Kaitlyn grabbed her Sprite and headed in the direction of the beacon. She decided to try to block the other presence or at least ignore it. She wasn't sure if that would even be possible, but she was nervous enough as it was; she didn't need to be jumpy, too. As she approached the booth in a more secluded part of the bar, she recognized Dean. Dean she had seen several times in the brief forays she'd unwillingly taken into Sam's mind. Sam, on the other hand, she had really only seen once as he looked at his own reflection in a mirror, and that was immediately following a blindingly painful vision. Kaitlyn was an empath; by nature, she wasn't really sure. But when it came to the other chosen, emotionally charged situations caused her to see and experience whatever the other was going through, exactly as he or she felt it, saw it, experienced it - as if it was happening to her.

She'd been in Sam's head more than any of the others, but considering what she had seen during those snippets, she could understand why. His life was far from usual. But what she had seen had also made her decide that he would be the first one she would try to contact. She thought he would be the most receptive to her.

Before she even reached the table, both brothers had looked up and watched her progress to the table. She was not a telepath and therefore had no idea what other people were thinking. This was sometimes very frustrating as she felt emotions, but often couldn't begin to fathom the reasons for them. Currently, she was being bombarded by emotions running the gamut from curiosity to apprehension. Dean was outright distrustful, while Sam was giving off the faintest hope. She didn't know everything they had been through or seen to bring them to this place and what they were feeling toward her without having met her yet. Her nervousness increased a bit. She took another glance around as she felt a shift in the room's emotional state. She had suddenly gone from outsider to being under suspicion. Again, she was left only being able to guess at the change.

"Hi, I'm Kaitlyn." She greeted with a friendly smile.

Dean nodded. Sam half stood, "I'm Sam and this is Dean. Please, sit."

As she sat, a little blonde girl came over to the table. "You guys need anything?"

"No. Thanks, Jo," Dean said.

Jo obviously had a thing for Dean who seemed a little irritated by the distraction. Kaitlyn also noticed that Sam was amused by the situation. She couldn't help but smirk at the exchange. It was sometimes hard for her not to react in kind to the emotions around her.

"Alright, well let me know if you do." Jo was radiating curiosity and a little suspicion or maybe it was jealousy.

"So…" Sam said.

"Well, obviously, you got my e-mail. And thanks. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me."

"Speaking of that e-mail," Dean interjected, his voice laced with suspicion. "How did you know Sam would see it? I mean, Alex never even knew you, as far as we can tell."

Was everyone suspicious around here? Kaitlyn wondered. "That's…kind of hard to explain. I'm not even sure I understand."

"Try."

"Dean." Sam chastised.

"Hey. I'm just being cautious after our run-ins with some of your other playmates. I mean, we don't know anything about her other than what she told us in some letter. I just think it's strange how she knew we'd even look at Alex's laptop."

"It's okay," Kaitlyn said, looking from Sam to Dean. She couldn't understand where the hostility was coming from, but she really wanted to set them both at ease. She figured Sam would be easier to reach; he was already more open to her, but Dean would have to agree to her plan if it was going to work. And she really did only want to help. "Alex put out ads looking for other people with her…abilities. I've spent a good part of this last year doing web research into psychic abilities, demons, children who've lost parents in house-fires. Her empathic ability caught my attention, so I started looking into her background. I managed to find a picture of her. So, when she…died…I was…connected, to Sam. I saw her face, her necklace. I heard enough of the 911 call to have a general location. I realized who she was and I took a chance. I figured you would investigate her the way you do others."

"So, you said in the email that you're connected to about 8 other people – all who had a fire at 6 months of age that killed the mothers." Sam said all of this slightly hushed, not wanting to be overheard. Dean shifted in his seat, glancing from Sam to Kaitlyn and leaning in a little closer to the table. "What about the others?"

Shaking her head and frowning a little, Kaitlyn asked, "What others?" Watching the boys exchange a glance, she knew she was missing some information and it made them uneasy.

"How much do you know about Andy Gallagher?" Sam asked.

"Um, well…I know you met. I know you experienced a series of visions and it led you to Andy. I know it had something to do with another guy, too, but I couldn't really make sense of some of the images I was seeing. I don't usually experience anything more than empathy and when you meet up with another of the… people like us, it tends to wreak havoc with me. I can't always tell who's seeing what and what's going on."

"Andy had a twin brother. He also had the mind control ability. But he never had a house fire…and…he'd been visited by the Demon." Sam watched as Kaitlyn processed what he was saying.

"Huh." Kaitlyn uttered.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Twins?"

"Yeah." Sam confirmed.

"And only Andy's mother died in a fire? How is that even possible?"

Sam explained. "Their mother gave them up for adoption. It was Andy's adopted mother who died."

"Huh…So…The brother was the man that I saw? The man Andy shot?"

After another exchange of glances, Sam nodded in reply. "Yeah."

"Man, poor Andy." Kaitlyn felt genuinely sorry for the guy. Once again, most of what she had experienced had been from Sam's point of view. While she had felt Andy's anguish, she hadn't been able to put all the pieces together of what happened.

"Poor Andy? He killed a man!" Sam stated in an intense but hushed voice.

Kaitlyn could feel the fear from Sam, but could only guess at what he was thinking. "Yeah, poor Andy. He just found out he had a brother and then has to kill him to stop him from murdering more people."

Sam's expression pinched and he shook his head a little. He was obviously having some sort of internal struggle, but what caught Kaitlyn's attention was that Dean's feelings had shifted slightly in her favor. He had a slight smirk on his face as he lifted his beer to drink.

"Well…It must have something to do with the fire." Both men looked at Kaitlyn slightly confused by the change of gears. She continued on. "The ones I'm connected to. They've all been through the fire. I don't know. The fire…whatever the Demon did that night, must have something to do with the connection."

"Maybe." Sam contemplated.

"And how do you know about the Demon, anyway?" asked Dean.

"Well…I saw it…When you went to help Rosie. When you're around others like us, it kind of boosts what I see, so I witnessed a good portion of that night…" she glanced from one man to the other.

"Uh-huh." Dean looked over at Sam, then back to Kaitlyn. "As fun as all this reminiscing is, what makes you think you can help us? Why are you here?"

"Dean!" Dean didn't reply to Sam, he just continued to watch Kaitlyn, waiting for her to answer.

Undeterred, Kaitlyn pressed on. "Well…It's really just a theory. As I said before, Sam, you've been the only one to display more than one ability. On certain levels, you…your abilities are always active. On other levels, you're…blocked. I don't know if it's conscious or not, but…I think I can help you. Help you learn to use your abilities and get them under control."

"How?" both brothers asked together. Dean shifted again and his anxiety level rose noticeably to Kaitlyn. While Sam seemed anxious, he was curious, too.

"I know how it feels when the chosen use their abilities, which, thanks by the way, for those migraines from hell." Kaitlyn smirked. "Each one has been in an emotionally charged state when using them, so I've…experienced them… all, first hand so to speak. I think I can, I don't know, download how it feels to you, like in The Crow."

"Yeah, and that was a pleasant experience for everyone involved," sniped Dean.

"I don't really think it will be painful like that, not if Sam is ready and open to the information." She shrugged. Shifting her attention back to Sam, "You'll, hopefully, be able to go from there."

"You want open access to Sam's mind? Are you kidding me?"

"It wouldn't be open access. I can't read thoughts. And I'm not wanting to read him at all."

"But you do want to plant stuff in his head. Yeah, I've seen that movie, too. One person implants a psychic suggestion that turns the other person into an assassin or something. Nuh-uh. No way." Sam remained silent during Dean's rant. It was true, they really had no way of knowing if Kaitlyn was telling the truth about her intentions or if she was who she said she was. "And why would he even want to learn to use them? He's already a virtual paranormal magnet."

Kaitlyn sighed. It was her experience that people who weren't psychic had a general mistrust for the abilities. She'd even had some well meaning friends try to perform an exorcism of sorts on her. She had not expected the resistance she was currently getting, though. And she was at a loss as to how to communicate that she meant them no harm.

"Sam has abilities which can, quite frankly, be useful, and I can't help but think there is a purpose behind them – a reason we have them." Far from being encouraging, this statement actually darkened the brothers' moods. "What?"

Sam and Dean seem to share a private conversation and, whatever the exchange, Dean shrugged his consent for Sam to explain.

"The Demon. It said it had plans for us – for all children like us. And, from what we've seen, the more a person embraces his abilities, well…"

"The more evil they are." Dean finished for him.

Kaitlyn sat for a moment digesting what Sam and Dean said and it began to click. She uttered a drawn out "Oh" while nodding, realizing why her words had not had the desired effect and probably part of the reason they were so suspicious of her.

"You know, there are two sides to every battle. The Demon is powerful, yes. And probably a genius at orchestrating events. But I refuse to believe that demons are either all powerful or the only side with plans. I like to think that the side of good has a far better tactician in charge. Besides, I also believe in free will and that my soul cannot belong to anyone I haven't given it to, no matter what rituals are performed. And no demon is going to …to turn me… or make me evil without my consent."

The steely resolve and conviction with which she spoke these words served to rally both men. Both had been unknowingly looking for something to cling to that would offer hope. They did not know if she was right, but both wanted to believe that Sam would be safe.

Kaitlyn felt the subtle shift in the brothers' emotions and hoped that trust was finally being built. She knew she wouldn't be able to help if there wasn't some level of trust from both of them. Sam would never be able to get past his psychic barriers if he wouldn't let her in and drop his guard when the time came. Without warning, she also heard a silent cackle and a whispered, "Are you so sure you won't fall?" causing her to start and look around so fast she nearly gave herself whiplash. Whatever the presence was, it was becoming more bold, and far too intimate for her comfort. Her sudden movement surprised the men and Sam asked, "What is it?"

"I…" she looked at Sam hoping for some sign from him that he had felt something too. She was a little disappointed and even further disturbed that he hadn't seemed to sense anything. "uh…no, nothing." She redirected the conversation, "Look, all I'm saying is that you have a choice."

"But what if it's not as blatant as a one time decision? What if the person is pushed or backed into it?" Sam asked.

"I know the change from good to evil is seldom an overnight, wake up one morning and say, 'Hey, I think I'll go out and kill a bunch of people, and while I'm at it, become the pawn of a demon today' kind of thing. I just don't think the Demon can corrupt us that easily. I know Max …didn't turn out so well, but you don't know the others. Andy's not a bad guy. He had to make a decision. Take a stand and stop evil or step aside and let it take over. I think he chose well. And I don't think he's any more evil or less good now, than he was before. Yeah, the Demon may want you to be able to use your abilities for his own purposes, but that doesn't mean you don't learn to use your abilities. That's like saying you won't learn to talk because words can hurt people. They can also help. Take the abilities you've been given, make them yours and fight back."

"So, if this isn't some sort of scheme to give the Demon what he wants, why are you doing this? What do you get out of helping us?" asked Dean, but this time with less hostility than he had earlier.

"As I said, I like to think we've been given these abilities for a reason. I feel I have a responsibility to use mine as best I can and help however I can." She paused a little, looking down at her hands, wrapped around her glass. "I already feel like I'm a part of this because of what I've seen, willing or not. I need to be doing something instead of just watching."

"Wait. What are you saying? You're not coming with us."

"Oh no, I wouldn't expect to travel with you or anything, but I want to help Sam if I can. Maybe I can start approaching the others. Do more research, you know, whatever. But I need to be part of this." She could tell the men sympathized with the feeling, but they also needed time to digest all that was said. She, too, needed to think about what had occurred tonight. All of it. The feeling that she was being watched was becoming oppressive and she'd have to leave soon to avoid fleeing the bar and looking like a lunatic. She wasn't sure why she wasn't telling the hunters about it. Perhaps part of her hoped that Sam would be able to sense something and confirm to her that she wasn't finally cracking, despite her brave words tonight. She hadn't told them yet, but she knew at least one of the others was in a mental institution. It was one of the things she hoped to rectify when meeting the other chosen, being able to offer assurance of their sanity.

-------

They agreed to meet again the next day. As she was walking out Dean turned to Sam and said, "She's hiding something."

"Yeah, but I think she was sincere in what she said. Whatever she's hiding…it's something else."

"Yeah maybe. I'm keeping my eye on her, though, Sammy."

"I bet you are."

"I'm serious, Sam."

Sam chuckled, "You trusted Andy, who mind-controlled you to get your car, but you don't trust her?"

"It's not my mind she's trying to play with."

"Well, as long as you're around, nothings gonna happen, right?"

"Damn straight."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

It took most of Kaitlyn's restraint not to run out of the Roadhouse. It took even more not to run to the "safety" of her car. Once inside the familiar surroundings, she felt more at ease. She sent up a quick prayer and headed back to her room at the motel.

She entered the room quickly and stood with her back leaning against the door and took a calming breath. Unfortunately the feeling of being watched didn't fade. She paced for a while trying to figure out what was going on and what she would do. She knew that she would eventually have to tell Sam and Dean what was going on. If Sam was as powerful as she thought he might be, he'd find out anyway. She just didn't want to say anything, yet, as she had no idea what to tell them_. "Um, hey guys, I think I'm being watched by someone who's not really there…and…oh yeah, I've started hearing voices, too…and no, not in a telepathic way." Yeah. That would go over really well._

She'd questioned her sanity once already this year. It had been a very dark time for her when her abilities started. She was already an emotional basket case and then the added confusion of becoming an empath nearly sent her over the edge. She had even considered checking herself into an institution. As much as she loved them, her friends really had nothing to offer her that didn't further confuse her or make her question who she was. After some serious soul searching, she had decided she wasn't crazy and she wasn't less of a Christian or less human for the abilities she possessed. She didn't really believe she was crazy now, either. At this thought, she again heard the chuckle that she'd come to associate with chills running up and down her spine.

_"Oh – You're not crazy; not yet, anyway."_ The malevolent whisper from earlier taunted.

"Shut up!" she said aloud. This served only to spur the presence into a fit of laughter. Grabbing her head with both hands, she let out a frustrated growl and sat hard on the edge of her bed.

_What's going on? Think…_Unable to focus her thoughts, the only thing she could think do to right now was try to get some sleep; so she started to get ready for bed. In the past, music had been soothing to her soul, especially when she didn't want to feel alone. She turned on the radio in hopes that the music would have the same comforting effect now, when she was not alone yet should be.

In a further attempt to ignore the presence that was haunting her, she turned her thoughts to her first face-to-face encounter with Sam and Dean. She thought about what Sam had said about the Demon having plans and about the other "gifted" people whom she could neither sense, nor had lost their mothers in a fire. She couldn't help but think there was some connection there. What was the point of the fire if the Demon could get what it wanted without it? Were there others who had been through the fire that she could not sense? Were there other fires where no one had survived?

Kaitlyn was getting exhausted despite the relatively early hour of night. The travel and emotional stress had combined to wear her down, physically, emotionally and mentally. After finishing up her nightly routine, she settled in bed and thought fleetingly that she finally felt alone and hoped the night would be restful for her. She should have known better than to think the presence would leave her alone for long, not with the connection growing ever stronger.

Sometime during the night her dreams turned into nightmares. The scene was a familiar one, though one she never wanted to see. She opened her eyes to find herself trapped in a car. Her head thrummed from its impact with her side window and blood streaked the side of her face from where the glass and her skin had both given way, neither proving the stronger combatant in the collision. In fact, her whole right side was experiencing pain of varying degrees. Her shoulder and arm had impacted with the side door and she half expected her arm to be broken, but, at the very least, it would be deeply bruised. The seatbelt had rubbed and cut into her neck from the friction of the sudden movement into the restraint. Stunned by the impact, she was unable to escape the metal cage as death settled next to her with deafening quiet.

Because this nightmare was based on real memories, she knew without having to turn her head that death sat next to her in the seat her husband had just occupied moments before. She didn't want to look. She knew what she'd see, but as with most dreams, she had little control over what her own body did. So with tremendous effort, both from turning her head and not wanting to, she looked. She began to cry a little as she reached out a trembling hand to touch the face of the man next to her. Though she never felt the guilt that Sam had, she did know the sorrow that came with losing the one you love – the one with whom you were meant to share your life. There was nothing she could do for him. He was already gone. The impact of the truck into his side of the car had been crushing. She could see blood dripping from his head as it hung limp. He looked like a man praying. His left hand was still holding the steering wheel, pinned to the wheel by the side of the car as the car had collapsed in on itself. She never knew what the exact cause of death was. It hadn't mattered to her. All she knew, all she needed to know, was that her beloved husband would never again occupy that seat. She would never again sit at his right hand, hear him laugh, listen to his dreams and plan the rest of their lives together. Death had parted them, and far too soon and she was no longer Mrs. Brian Ross.

The memory suddenly shifted and the nightmare became even more horrifying. As she ran her fingers through Brian's hair and she traced the line of his face, tears running freely, her dead husband turned his head to look at her. She pulled her hand back as if burned and inhaled sharply, jumping and pressing as far into her seat and her side of the car as she could. As he smiled, a predatory smile she had never seen on the living man's face, she fumbled to release the seatbelt, but somehow knew her attempts to escape would prove futile. She would not be allowed to escape this dream. His face morphed into someone else's, someone she had never seen before, but recognized by its feel. He continued to smile and seemed to become more delighted the harder she struggled to get away. Sobs were the only thing free to escape as sorrow mixed with frustration and terror. It was his turn to reach out this time, this unwelcome stranger. She became still as he reached for her, hoping that if she was still enough, he wouldn't hurt her. His cold eyes fixed hers as he mimicked her actions, tracing the line of her face with a far too cold hand. He grabbed her chin, leering all the more, and leaned toward her, the side of his head cut and slicked with blood, shards of glass sticking out here and there like some bizarre facial piercings. _"I'm just getting started."_ He whispered with a chuckle.

As he dropped his hand from her face, her subconscious felt its release and she woke from the nightmare. She sat up, pulled her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Rocking slightly, she sat in the dark, eyes wide, praying for wisdom and strength. God knew, she would need it.

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To be continued...

A/N - Thanks so much, again, to my beta-er - J.A. Carlton - and my editors - mom and my sister. Thank you to all who took the time to review and to those who've taken note of my little story in other ways. I appreciate the love!


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimers - Usual disclaimers apply... Though, I'm thinking of annexing the show so it doesn't go on sabbatical. Hee hee.

Chapter 3

After breakfast the next morning, Sam and Dean had about an hour before going to meet Kaitlyn at her hotel room. That was the safest place they could think of if the boys finally agreed to let Kaitlyn try to help Sam gain control of his abilities. They used the hour to do research. Dean dropped Sam off at the library before heading to the police station. They wanted to see if they could find out anything else about their potential new ally – anything they should be concerned about.

Forty-five minutes later, Dean met Sam at the library bearing gifts - well, coffee, anyway. Sam took the coffee gratefully and immediately started in on his summary while consulting the various pages of information he'd printed out.

"Well, pretty much everything she's told us checks out. She was adopted by her aunt and uncle after the fire. She owns an art gallery where she also displays her own pieces. There's a website… not bad, actually… Uh, she also does freelance work as a sketch artist for the police. Huh. She was married at the age of 24, two years ago, but, about a year later, there was a car crash – drunk driver – and her husband died.

Dean picked up the summary here. "Yeah. I read the accident report that's on file. There wasn't much in it; just that her husband was declared dead at the scene and it was a drunk driver. Other than that, there was nothing else on file with the cops."

"I hate to say it, Dean, but she looks legit. I can't find anything that would indicate she can't be taken at her word or that she's in any way dangerous."

"Yeah, well, Meg looked good to, in more ways than one I might add, and we both know how that turned out…buckets-o-crazy."

"Maybe we should ask Ash to do more checking on her."

"No," Dean said rather forcefully. When Sam gave him a questioning look, he continued. "Look, I just…don't think it's a good idea to advertise we have a connection to another demon-related psychic in a bar full of hunters, especially when some of them got a good look at her last night. I might not trust her completely, but I don't want anything to happen to her, either. Or us, for that matter. And Ash isn't exactly good at keeping secrets."

"You still think I might be in danger there?" Sam asked a little incredulously.

Dean squirmed a little. "Yeah, maybe. I don't really know what to think right now, to be honest. I'm just hoping Ellen's 'a war's coming and we're all we've got' outweighs any desire to seek revenge on her part. Come on, let's go."

As they walked to the car Sam thought about what Dean had said. He would have just blown his paranoia off at one time. _But Dad did keep us away from there for a reason. And, after Gordon…Dean might be right._

When they got in the car Sam remembered he had more information to share. "I did some digging through Alex's research on empaths. You know, true empaths are fairly uncommon."

"Unlike other psychic abilities," Dean interjected.

Sam chuckled in spite of himself. "Anyway, empathy usually manifests with other abilities. For example, psychics, like Missouri, can often pick up the moods of their clients, but they also sense energies and spirits and can see the truth behind situations and events. Other empaths have telepathic abilities, though, sometimes, it requires direct physical contact with the other person. And then, of course, there was Alex, who could actually see other worldly… things."

"Okay." Dean prompted Sam to continue.

"I just wonder if Kaitlyn can do more than she's aware…"

"Or more than she's letting on," finished Dean.

"Maybe," Sam frowned.

They had arrived at the hotel and Dean pulled into the nearest available parking place to Kaitlyn's room. When they knocked on her door, she opened it pretty immediately. The smell of coffee permeated the air of the small room. Kaitlyn greeted them with a warm smile and a wave of her hand, indicating they should come in. She had opened the curtains to the room to let in as much natural light as she could. She had an easel set up in one corner of the room and it appeared she had been working on a pencil sketch of a man's portrait. While she looked cheery enough, she also seemed tired.

"Welcome to my humble abode," she said with a smile. "I've got coffee. That's about it. I figured you guys would have already eaten breakfast, but, if you're hungry I can order something."

"No, we're good, thanks," said Dean.

"So, what are you working on there?" asked Sam conversationally.

Kaitlyn looked over at the portrait and wrapped her arms around her middle, protectively. "I… had a nightmare last night. Didn't get much sleep. Um… I find that, sometimes, drawing something out is good catharsis for me."

Curious about her reaction to the question, Dean asked, "Who is he?"

"Well…I think I'm connected to another psychic, but…" her voice trailed off. She still didn't feel ready to start divulging what little information she had, but, in the light of day and without feeling the malevolent presence, she felt more confident, not only about the situation, but her own sanity. She also recognized that hiding things from the men would only hinder any chance she had of helping them.

Dean spocked an eyebrow and asked, "But what?"

"He's…different. The connection isn't the same with him as with the others."

"What do you mean?" It was Sam's turn to prod.

"Well, the connection with the others, the others like us, it's kind of a give and take. I don't really know how aware the others are of me, but…I don't know; it's hard to explain." Kaitlyn gave a frustrated huff and tried again. "Um…Okay, something happens to you, Sam, and you get emotional about it."

Dean snorted in amusement at Kaitlyn's wording. "Yeah, Sammy, you get so emotional sometimes."

"Shut up," retorted Sam.

Kaitlyn smiled and continued, "I don't know if I'm technically already connected to you or if the connection starts at your side, but I get the impression from you and then it stops. But I can also find you in a crowd and follow our link to wherever you are. If I concentrate hard enough, I can pick up the feelings of the others, regardless of distance. This guy, whoever he is, is connecting to me. He's communicating with me, but I can't control it. I can't break the link and I can't locate him either. Now, granted, I haven't tried. He…creeps me out, to say the least."

"So…Is he connected to you right now?" Sam asked.

"No. I seem to be able to feel when he's…here, mentally. I think he prefers it that way. He's not here right now."

"Is he…" both men looked at each other, having started and cut off the question at the same time. Sam gave Dean a half-smiled and said, "Go ahead."

Dean still hadn't gotten used to how often he and Sam were on the same wavelength. He wondered how much of it was the time they spent together, what they'd been through together, and Sam's attempts at gaining control of his abilities. Laura had noticed Sam's abilities slowly developing. She'd encouraged him, probably more than Dean ever would. _I just worry, Sam. I worry about you, too, Laura. Where the hell are you?..._He was being carefully watched by both psychics, making him feel uncomfortably vulnerable even though, supposedly, neither one could read his mind. He reigned in his thoughts and asked, "Is he why you were jumpy last night."

Kaitlyn smiled, "You're very perceptive, Dean."

"It's what I do." Dean offered up one of his more charming smiles.

Kaitlyn chuckled lightly, "Yes, he's also the reason for the nightmare." Dean could change emotions in zero point three seconds flat. She figured it was a defense mechanism. Whatever he'd been thinking about a moment earlier had caused him enough pain to bury it, fast.

"But you have no idea who he is?" Sam again picked up the thread. For all intents and purposes, he was on a new job. Admittedly, he might have been trying to distract himself. He knew that trying to gain control of his abilities made Dean uncomfortable. And after their encounter with Andy, he had confirmed his suspicion that Dean not only thought he was a freak, but someone to fear, at least a little. This, in turn, filled Sam with self-doubt and fear, so it was best not to think too hard about his abilities. It was ironic, really, because of the reason they were meeting Kaitlyn in the first place.

"No. I know he's human. I'm not sure if that makes me feel better, but at least it's something. I figured once I had a good picture of him, I'd fax it to one of my cop buddies and see if he gets any hits on who this guy is. If not…"

"What?" both men asked.

"Well, I'll have to find him. See if I can get a lock on him, so to speak." Kaitlyn was obviously uncomfortable with the prospect of actually trying to get in the man's mind. She wasn't even sure if she would be able to since he wasn't like the others she connected with. But she'd have to swallow her fear and try or she may never be free of him…or worse.

"What does he want?" Dean asked.

Kaitlyn looked at Dean. She wasn't sure if she knew the answer, and she didn't really want to share what she suspected. "I'm…not…really sure."

"But you think you know." Dean stated simply. He really was uncanny in his ability to read people. It made Kaitlyn wonder if there was more to Dean than met the eye.

"He said, last night, in my head…He said I wasn't crazy, for hearing him…but I would be." Kaitlyn was a little surprised, though she later realized she shouldn't have been, by the men's reactions. It seemed that this information served to lessen their suspicion of her, while at the same time they were gearing up for something. She figured a hunt. It was interesting to watch as both men processed the information. She could almost literally see the wheels turning as both thought through this newest mystery. "Look, I'm glad you both find this interesting enough to want to help, but it can wait and we still haven't talked about why we're all here in the first place." The mood in the room shifted back to apprehension, nervousness, and a little fear.

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tbc.

Thanks again for the kind reviews and interest. I appreciate it.

A/N Thanks again to my beta-er and editors extraordinaire. Love you guys - J.A. Carlton, Mom, and Mei mei.


	4. Chapter 4

Usual Disclaimer - Own nothing... definitely not making money.

Additional Disclaimer – I don't own Skittles or Peanut M & M's either, not even the little travel packs.

Chapter 4

Kaitlyn felt the immediate tensing of the men at the mention of Sam's abilities. They had agreed to meet with her, today. She didn't really know where to go from there to convince them that this was a good thing.

"Are we really so sure this is a good idea?" Dean asked, looking from Kaitlyn to Sam.

Sam shrugged. There were still so many questions that they didn't have answers to, and may never. Which was the more responsible and safest course of action? Should he learn to use his abilities with the possibility that increased use of them would increase his chance of…_What? Going darkside? But if I don't learn to control them and it puts Dean, or anyone, in danger again, isn't it worth the risk? Besides, we don't really know for sure if the powers cause people to become evil or if they were evil to begin with. Am I evil? Now? Is that why Dean gets nervous? Does he see something I don't? Don't go there..._He sighed to himself._ Then again, maybe the most responsible path isn't always the safest._

"I really can't convince you one way or another. The choice is yours. All I can say is that I've decided that, if I can help people by using my gift, it's worth any downside." Kaitlyn could only share what she had to offer, but she wouldn't force the issue, knowing that would be counterproductive. She waited as the men stood in indecision for a few minutes.

"Okay," Sam said, glancing uneasily at Dean. "What did you have in mind?" Dean offered a huff of frustration, but he sat in the hotel chair, listening intently. He was on edge, wanting to make sure no harm would come to his little brother.

Kaitlyn offered a slight smile. Sam was still unsure, and she knew Dean was not happy with the situation but had conceded the final decision to Sam. She didn't know how much progress they would make if Sam couldn't relax, and Dean might be the only one who could put him at ease enough to really allow him to make progress. But she had to try. Maybe she'd get a chance to talk to Dean later. "Well, I can't really help you with your visions, except…Let me ask you, Sam. Have you ever had premonitions that didn't involve immensely painful headaches, as much fun as those are?"

"Well, when they first started, I was just having the nightmares. Those weren't painful."

"Uh-huh. I have a theory. I told you that, when I first started feeling other peoples' emotions, I would get intense headaches. It wasn't up to your caliber, mind you, but fun none-the-less. I had subconsciously put up barriers in an attempt to block what my mind thought was an invasion, similar to our bodies' immune system, but…in the mind. I still have barriers, and I've gotten better at maintaining them when I have to, but I'm guessing the same type of thing is affecting to you. When you are asleep, your mind is free to accept what it is seeing. When you're awake, you're not only trying to fight to stay in the present with your physical body, which I think is a reflex, but you're also fighting your abilities…out of fear, fear of what they mean for you and your connection to the Demon. I think if you stop fighting them, it will go easier for you."

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to do that?" The question came out a little more clipped than Sam had intended. What she said made sense, but how could he not fight. _On the other hand, that is why I'm here, isn't it? _"I mean, how do I relax when the barriers are reflexive?"

Kaitlyn's expression became introspective as she thought about his question. "Well, you have to want to bring the barriers down, for one." She grinned, knowing that fighting not only came naturally for Sam, but was backed up with years of training. "When I was learning how to read people's emotions, if I found myself pulling back or trying to evade, I'd actually push out. Um, I don't really know how else to explain it. How do you unlearn any reflex or instinct? Hey, I said I might not be too helpful with the visions." Kaitlyn laughed.

Dean snorted. He wasn't really impressed so far, but at least she wasn't doing Sam any harm. Sam did, however get the gist of what she was saying. He knew he could overcome the reflexive part of his defense. He wasn't sure about the rest.

"Okay, on to something I think I can help with," Kaitlyn said while rubbing her hands together in anticipation of the real fun. "I figured we'd start with telekinesis. It's fairly safe and it doesn't involve the minds of other people. I'm going to 'download' Max's memories from when he was using TK. Now, it will be a stripped down version of the memory. I don't know if I could transmit images if I wanted to, but I'm going to try to dampen the emotion some while keeping the feel of using the TK. Hopefully that will be enough to jog your ability."

"If I even can use telekinesis. I've only used it once and it was more like a fluke. I couldn't do it at the cabin." Sam glanced over at Dean when he said this.

Kaitlyn didn't have to be an empath to know Sam felt extremely guilty about this; but she was, and feeling the full weight of his emotion was difficult to handle. She had already started lowering her guard in preparation of the memory transfer. The guilt, and her subsequent sympathy, almost brought tears to her eyes. She sat down hard on the edge of the bed and braced herself until the emotion passed. She looked up and saw both men giving her a concerned look.

"Sorry. Emotional overload for a second. I'm good." She offered a reassuring smile. "Okay. Sam, if you could sit down."

Sam sat across from her. They both shifted so they were comfortable on the bed, facing each other. Sam's leg was draped over the edge of the bed. Kaitlyn sat Indian-style near the head of the bed, but close enough that Sam was within easy touching distance.

"I want you to try to relax. Remember, we're doing this to help you. Close your eyes, try to clear your mind and anticipate receiving something…like a box. I'm going to touch your head. Touch can strengthen a psychic connection. Ready?"

Sam closed his eyes and nodded. He still startled a little when Kaitlyn did reach out and gently touch the side of his head. She also closed her eyes. Dean leaned forward in his chair, which served to both bring him closer to his brother and ready him to move quickly if need be.

Kaitlyn inhaled deeply and slowly let the breath out. At first, there was no reaction from Sam, but after a couple of seconds he frowned. The frown quickly turned into a grunt and he jerked away from Kaitlyn, simultaneously reaching up to palm his forehead. Kaitlyn opened her eyes and noted that Dean had risen to his feet, his anxiety high.

Sam seemed to sense Dean's change in position and emotion. He put out his hand and said reassuringly, "No, no. It's okay." He looked over at Kaitlyn. "Huh. That was … weird." He made eye contact with Dean, who sat back down, determining that Sam was not in danger and nodded. Sam nodded back.

"I'm…surprised, actually. I thought you'd put up more resistance," said Kaitlyn, "unless, of course, it didn't work."

"Well, I definitely got something."

"Hmm. Good. Now find an object to try to move and concentrate on how it felt to move the object in the memory."

Sam looked at Kaitlyn a little disbelievingly at how easy she made it sound. She just shrugged and smiled. Grabbing a pencil from the hotel nightstand, she put it on the bed between them, shifting away from him to give him room. "Close your eyes."

Sam closed his eyes and concentrated. He concentrated on the memory. Well, it didn't really feel like a memory since there were no images, sounds, nothing to associate it with the physical world. There was just feeling, and not as in the sense of touch. When he thought he'd narrowed down his focus to the "feeling" of telekinesis, he opened his eyes and tried to concentrate on the pencil, willing it to move. After a minute or so of staring at the pencil, he had a thought. It might work better if he had a path for the pencil, rather than just a desire to make it move. Gathering all the mental facets of this exercise together - feeling, concentration, destination - he continued to will and concentrate. After a moment, he huffed in frustration and looked up at Kaitlyn. She smiled reassuringly. He looked over at Dean. Dean shrugged and sat back a little in his chair.

"Sam," Kaitlyn called his attention back to her. "I'm going to keep the memory going, replaying it so it's fresh in your mind. You know, the more often you perform an action, the more pathways your brain builds for performing the tasks; it's how habits are formed and why they're so hard to break. Or like martial arts training, the more you perform a task, the more your body remembers the task and then can almost do it on autopilot as a learned reflex. Maybe if I keep the memory fresh, your mind will create a more solid connection to the feeling and the task."

Sam nodded. He settled himself again, going back through the mental processes of relaxing while also concentrating and focusing. He felt Kaitlyn reach out and touch his knee, and then the pressure and sensation of disconnected feeling, like remembering a dream. He was ready for it this time and didn't pull away as he had the first time. He sat again intently staring at the pencil, trying to will his mind to overcome matter.

Almost a minute later, Sam startled when the pencil flew at him. He was so not expecting to succeed in bringing the pencil to him, that he hadn't reached out to catch it and it lightly hit him in the stomach. He looked up at Kaitlyn, who was smiling, and realized he was smiling, too. He looked over at Dean. His heart fell a little when he saw that Dean had resumed his edge-of-his-seat position and was frowning slightly while looking at the pencil.

Dean looked up at Sam who was wearing the expression of a twelve year old who had proudly displayed his science project, only to have the judges pass by without a second glance. He was at a loss for words, though, afraid that anything he said would only make Sam feel worse. He was unexpectedly glad that Sam succeeded and yet far more worried at what this could mean for Sam. "Good job." He tried to sound genuine, but it came out flat, even to his ears. He did the only thing he could do. "We will forever be safe from zombie bunnies. You can just stake them with a pencil into their little burial shoe boxes." Dean chuckled. It was lame, but it was enough.

"Shut up," Sam said with a shake of his head and Kaitlyn actually laughed out loud. Sam hoped that if Dean was willing to joke, however badly, he would eventually be willing to accept it.

"You should keep practicing, Sam." Kaitlyn urged gently.

"I'm going to step out and grab us some food." Dean took a round of orders and headed out the door.

Kaitlyn got up, grabbed the picture she'd been working on from the easel and, with a backward glance at an intensely concentrating Sam, she headed out the door after Dean. She had waited long enough so that she had to catch up to him outside of the room. While she was going to give Dean the picture to fax to Dan, her cop friend back in PA, she really wanted an opportunity to chat with Dean privately, and she figured Sam would be busy for a few minutes.

"Hey, Dean?"

"Yeah?" He turned toward her. The casual observer would have thought that Dean was annoyed by the woman, but, as was typical with Dean, he presented the face that was necessary to prevent people from truly knowing what he was feeling. Fortunately for her, Kaitlyn was not a casual observer and knew that Dean was scared of what had just happened in the hotel room and was looking for escape, not a confrontation with the one person he held responsible.

"While you're out, can you stop by the little mail store in town and fax this picture to a friend of mine at the police station. The number's on the back. I'll give him a call and let him know it's coming."

"Sure." He took the picture. There was something about the face that was off. He wouldn't have thought he was just a human if Kaitlyn hadn't been so sure.

"Dean?"

"What?" He asked with a slight huff.

"Why are you afraid?" Dean stared at Kaitlyn a moment. He was surprised by the question and taken aback by her forwardness. She was practically a stranger. He realized, though, that he was unsettled, not because she was a stranger, but because he couldn't hide what he was feeling from her.

"I don't really want to talk about it, to tell you the truth."

"Well, it's just…I know how you're feeling."

She had barely gotten out the sentence when he stepped forward, enough in her personal space to be intimidating, "Lady, you don't know anything about me. You don't know how I'm feeling."

"Uh…empath," Kaitlyn responded taking a half step back and raising her hand as one did when attendance was being taken. "So, yes, unfortunately, I do. I can't help but not. You're like a…a big…walking…bag of Skittles."

"I'm a what?"

"You know, taste the rainbow – of emotion. Doesn't matter. The point is I may not know why you feel the way you do, but I do know what you're feeling. So I'm asking…why?"

Dean thought about what she said for a moment. At least she was asking rather than assuming she knew the reasons. "It's just…complicated." When it was obvious that wasn't going to cut it as an answer, he sighed and continued. "There's so much we don't know…about the abilities, about 'the chosen,' about the Demon and what its plans are. I just worry…for Sam. Psychic abilities tend to make people more interesting to every dark, evil thing out there. He's more of a target now then ever, and with him actually trying to…develop his talents, I just think it will make him more susceptible."

"So you're afraid for him?"

"Yes."

"Well, he needs to know that, Dean. He really thinks you're afraid of him, not for him." She paused, giving him time to consider what she'd said. "Let me ask you something. Who do you trust most in life?"

Dean was a little thrown by the change in direction of the conversation, but it was also an easy question to answer. "Sam," he stated confidently.

"You want to think about that for a minute?" she asked teasingly. "Some people, when asked that question, don't think to include themselves as a viable option. So, same question…Who would you…"

"Sammy."

"Why?"

"What? He's my brother." Dean knew she was heading somewhere with this, but wasn't yet sure where.

"So. Lots of people have siblings they love but don't even talk to, let alone trust. Yet they have a best friend they trust intimately with their very life. So…Why Sam?"

"I don't know, because he's always there. We fight side-by-side. I know he's got my back. I know practically everything there is to know about him, and the same goes for him knowing me."

She waved her hands, halting his list of reasons. "Exactly! You know him. You. Know. Him. Trust that. You mentioned that by him developing his talents he would become more susceptible. He's already a beacon - untapped, undeveloped. That's not going to change. Besides, I think by 'susceptible,' you weren't necessarily talking about him being a target?" She paused for confirmation. Dean reluctantly nodded. "It is possible to be tempted by the devil and win, especially when you've got someone there for you, believing in you. Sam's a good guy. He's a good guy in a way that not many people are. And he's strong. But if you stand with him…You're stronger together, side-by-side. He doesn't have to fall. There's always a choice. But, Dean, he won't reach his potential if he doesn't think you believe in him. And he's more likely to fall if you believe he will." Kaitlyn reached out and touched Dean's arm. "Just think about it." Kaitlyn turned from him and headed back to the hotel room.

"Hey," Dean called and Kaitlyn turned to look at him. "Peanut M & M's." She gave him a questioning look. "I don't like Skittles; I like Peanut M & M's." Kaitlyn smiled and nodded.

Her words had hit Dean square in the chest. It probably had something to do with the fact that they were so reminiscent of things he had said and thought. _"We're stronger as a family, Dad. We just are."_ But one of his legs had been knocked out from under him and he hadn't yet regained his footing. Too many things had changed too fast. He was unsure of so many things in the world right now, things he had always taken for granted. How could he muster the support he knew Sammy needed, deserved?

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A/N - Thanks again to all who so kindly take the time to review. Thanks for helping me in my learning process and encouraging me in writing the story. Thanks, as always, to my beta-er, J.A. Carlton and my editors, Mom and mei mei.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimers - Yeah, the usual...don't own, no money

Chapter 5

"Hey, Dan. It's Kaitlyn." Kaitlyn used her cell to make the phone call alerting Dan the fax was on its way. She stood outside the hotel room, not wanting to disturb Sam.

"Hey, Kait. What's up?"

"I've got a fax coming to you in a couple of minutes, if you could keep an eye out for it. It's a drawing - a portrait."

"Sure thing. You workin' a case out in Nebraska? Is there a link to something back here?"

"Uh, something like that. It's a…personal favor."

"You're not in some kind of trouble, are you?" Dan asked concernedly.

"Nah. I don't think so. I just want a general rundown on the guy if you find anything. And, don't worry, I'm in good company." Kaitlyn felt bad about being misleading, but there was really nothing Dan could do for her from that distance, so she'd rather he didn't worry, either.

"Sure thing, kiddo. I'll keep an eye out for it."

"Thanks. You can reach me on my cell if you find out anything."

"Okay. I'll ring you later. Be safe."

"You too." Kaitlyn hung up after their familiar farewell and stepped quietly into the room. The sight that greeted her would have made her laugh if she hadn't known what was going on. Sam was sitting on the bed as still as a statue with all the concentration and focus he could muster, staring at the pencil in front of him. "Hey, how's it going?" she asked.

Sam was so intensely concentrating that he startled when Kaitlyn spoke. She had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from laughing out loud, but she couldn't stop the smile that escaped.

Sam gave her one of his patented two-second smiles. "Nothing yet," he said in frustration.

"Well, give it time. Things have always come easy for you, haven't they?"

"Some things. Studying, remembering odd facts, or even not so odd. But Dean was always the natural at the hands-on stuff - not just fighting, but…inventing things to make our job easier; or to save us money."

"He seems like a great big brother."

"Yeah, he is." There was great pride in that statement, but a certain amount of sadness and worry weighed the words down. Kaitlyn was forcibly reminded of the times Sam had watched as his brother was dying, somehow always pulled back from the edge. She had never been privy to the latter side of these events and had occasionally wondered if Dean had died, but on her occasional "check-ins" with the chosen ones, she never sensed that despair of loss that she thought Sam would have felt at losing his brother. When their father had died, it had come as a shock to Sam and he felt incredibly guilty about it, as he so often did about the too many tragedies of his young life. When her husband had died, Kaitlyn experienced a loneliness that couldn't be eased with the presence of those around her, not at first. She could understand, with the kind of lifestyle these men lived, that the loneliness that surrounded them was far more pervasive. It colored almost everything they did, and yet, they managed to stay afloat, finding happiness where they could, like little pieces of treasure they held up and shared with each other. That zest for life, despite the burdens they carried, was one of the things that bonded the brothers so deeply.

"You know he loves you, right?" She asked. Sam nodded. "Love is not blind, Sam, despite what people say. Love sees every flaw, every foible, and all the freakishness; but it chooses to love anyway, to stand by you, and to want you to become what you're meant to be."

"But what is that? Is this what I'm to become? A bigger, better freak? Or maybe just a pawn?" Sam asked with bitterness in his voice.

"Hey! I resemble that remark." Kaitlyn smiled gently at Sam. "This," Kaitlyn touched her hand to his head, "doesn't have to define who you are. When this war is over, you won't cease to exist because you're no longer a combatant. Who you are at your core, in your soul, won't change, just what you do."

Sam contemplated this a bit and nodded.

"Here. Let me help you. Try again." Kaitlyn offered. They took up the same position as before, sitting facing each other with Kaitlyn's hand on Sam's knee. The psychic connection was re-established and Sam set about concentrating on moving the pencil, drawing on the memory actively "playing" in his mind.

There was a shift, for lack of a better word, in their connection that caught Kaitlyn's attention. "Sam? What are you…"

At that moment, a third presence made itself known in Kaitlyn's head. With her defenses down, the yet un-named "he" had gained access to her mind, deeper and with more control than he had been able to in the past. A cackle ripped through her mind and she drew back.

The new psychic presence had an effect similar to electricity. When a person is being electrocuted by a strong enough current and gets locked in place, any person attempting to help by grabbing them ends up becoming part of a chain. Unable to let go, the electricity passes through to that person as well. This was the affect the invasion was having on Sam and he could do nothing. He was still linked with Kaitlyn, experiencing the charge like she was, and he wasn't skilled enough to let go, let alone help her.

The man went through Kaitlyn's memories as one would a file cabinet. He flipped quickly past some, and grabbed others to examine, opening, spreading them out for all to see, so to speak. It wasn't so much that the memories he pulled up from her past were painful. She, fortunately, had very few of her own painful memories. It was the utter lack of control. Her mind had been her sanctuary. She had come to terms with the fact that her body was subject to the physical world. Age, illness, things beyond her control, could affect her body. Her soul had been surrendered to her God at a young age. It was bought with blood and she didn't own that anymore, either. But her mind was still hers to control. She sometimes made poor choices, but they were hers to make. That was no longer the case. And the man who had taken control either didn't realize Sam was still connected, didn't care, or possibly, enjoyed the fact that Sam was as helpless to do anything but witness as Kaitlyn was to prevent it.

Dean walked into the room at this moment, nearly letting their food, which he carried, hit the floor. Both Sam and Kaitlyn were on their feet, bent slightly at the waist with their hands holding their heads. It was an odd mirror effect. Each had backed into opposite walls of the room. Dean dropped the food unceremoniously on the table and walked the two strides it took to get over to Sam, grabbing him by each arm to support him and try to communicate with him.

"Sam? Sam!" He glanced at Kaitlyn then back to Sam, giving him a slight shake to try to bring him out of whatever state he was in.

The unseen presence spoke to Kaitlyn, "I was told a secret." He laughed. "I think you might enjoy it as well." He honed in with a precision that comes from practice and skill to the memory of the night of the accident. Like the nightmare from the night before, he started the sequence of memory from when she awoke in the car. Since he had something specific to show her, he didn't let her sit alone long, superimposing himself on her husband's image. Like the dream, he reached over and grabbed her chin, but this time instead of leaning in, he simply said, "Look."

Things were happening so fast, Kaitlyn was having trouble keeping up with what was going on. From the moment of the cackle, realizing someone else was there, and knowing who it was, she had started trying to put up defenses. It seemed, however, that each wall she put up was either torn down, or erected too slowly to be of use. When the voice spoke to her of a secret, she filled with dread. Then she found herself in the last place she ever wanted to be…again. She opened her eyes, knowing what she was going to see. However, when she looked over at her dead husband, she saw that other man's face and, like last night, drew back as far into her seat as she could. She was oddly relieved not to have to see her husband, but knew that something worse was coming. The relief was, indeed, short-lived. He reached out with his bloodied hand and grabbed her face.

"Look," was all he said as he directed her attention out the car window. She didn't understand what she was supposed to be seeing. A large black plume of smoke came off the drunk driver's car. _Funny, I don't remember there being a fire._

"Did you catch it?" He sneered and, with a laugh, he said, "Let me show you again." And this time, the memory played out in painfully slow motion. The black plume of smoke hadn't emanated from the car's engine, radiator, or from anywhere under the hood, but rather from the area of the driver. As the memory started to replay for the third time, Kaitlyn actually leaned slightly in the direction of the drunk driver's car and squinted to get a better look, filled with both curiosity and trepidation. There was something familiar that was clawing at the back of her mind. The man, sensing she was on the verge of understanding, stared at her with insane delight. While she watched, the black plume was released, and she saw that it came from the driver. Sudden realization hit her. She had seen that before. It was the same black release she had seen when the demon controlling the driver of the truck that had rammed the Impala, decided it would rather live than be killed by Sam. It was the same swirling black that escaped John when he could no longer hold onto it. It was the same alive blackness that spewed out of Meg when the exorcism ritual was completed. The drunk driver that had killed her husband had been possessed. Its job done, it left the scene of the crime.

Something inside Kaitlyn gave way and she pushed out with all her psychic strength, forcing all presences from her mind. She crumpled to the floor, her energy spent.

At the same time, the psychic push snapped Sam's head back and he crumpled. Had his brother not been there to catch him, he also would have fallen to the floor. He had what could only be described as a seizure as the push wreaked havoc with his nervous system.

"Sam? Sammy?" Dean was near panic now.

Sam stilled beneath him. Weakly he said, "Yeah. I'm good." He tried to get his breathing under control.

"The hell you are! What happened?"

It took a second for everything that happened to register with Sam. He unsteadily got to his feet, still holding onto his brother for support. He looked at Dean and, as the fog cleared and understanding came to him, he tried to push away from Dean to get to Kaitlyn. "Kaitlyn?" Dean held fast, not ready to let Sam go, afraid he would fall, and not wanting him anywhere near Kaitlyn.

She was also getting up from the floor. At the sound of her name, she looked up at Sam with wide, terrified eyes on the verge of tears. She was still processing what she'd seen and what it might mean.

"What did you do?" Dean's accusation cut her to the core. Had she not just witnessed what she had, she might have been able to offer a defense. But his question came too close on the heals of finding out that her husband had been killed in a demon attack and her only thought was that it was her fault. She tried to run from the room, but Dean let go of Sam with one hand and grabbed her arm. "What. Did. You. Do?" Fury showing through his eyes; his own guilt, for leaving Sam alone with her, rolled off him and added itself to hers. She struggled to get her arm free of his grip, as her fight-or-flight response was in full flight mode.

"Dean. Let her go." Sam said gently, patting his brother's chest and bringing Dean's attention back to himself so it wouldn't be on Kaitlyn. Dean let her go as he saw tears start to spill from her eyes, and she ran from the room.

She ran to her car - her place of safety and familiarity. In an attempt to shield herself from the emotions of others, Kaitlyn had built, in her mind's eye, a dam. It had enabled her to control the flow of emotions from other people. She could open it wide, when she wanted or needed to, or she could close it tight, blocking herself off from those around her. What she hadn't realized was that her own emotions were part of the reserve behind the dam. This memory, replayed with all too graphic detail, and the revelation that came with it, served as a well-placed explosion. There was now a crack in her dam. She had to find a way to shore it up or be swept away in the flood when it came crashing down. Right now, drowning seemed like a welcome option - to just let go and be carried away - but the voice that guarded her soul spoke words of comfort and wisdom. Instead, she opened the spillway of her own emotions and cried, releasing some of the pressure on the wall.

"What happened?" Dean asked, not for the first time.

"That man, the one from the portrait she drew, came back. He…attacked her. She was trying to help me with the telekinesis, so we were linked. It wasn't her fault, Dean." Sam was trying to explain, but it didn't totally make sense even to him. He continued. He wanted Dean to know it hadn't been Kaitlyn's fault. He needed Dean to know. They couldn't lose faith in another of the chosen children. "She…she was trying to stop him. Then he showed her the car crash. And I guess she just lost it, but she wasn't trying to hurt me, just get free."

"So, what? You were just…in the way?"

"No. I don't think she could get rid of him without breaking the connection with me. She had been trying to block him, from both of us, but he was too strong. I didn't sense that she was trying to hurt me at all."

Dean sighed, "Alright. But what made her freak out?"

"…Dean!" Full comprehension of what Sam had witnessed came to him. "That car crash - the one that killed her husband - wasn't the result of a drunk driver. It was a demon!"

"What?"

"A demon. A demon was possessing the drunk driver. It left right after the crash. She probably never knew until…now."

"Wait. How do you know? What happened?"

"I was there. I couldn't break the connection with her. I saw everything she did. And that bastard showed her the car crash and the demon."

"Son of a…" Dean trailed off.

"Yeah."

"Well…was it related to the Yellow-eyed Demon?"

"I don't know. The driver didn't have yellow eyes, I don't think, but that doesn't mean it wasn't working for him." Sam sat down. He was getting tired. The weight of what they had just found out was settling on the room, dampening everything and adding to his feeling of tiredness.

Dean looked out the window and saw that Kaitlyn was sitting in her car with her head resting on her arms over the steering wheel. She appeared to be crying. He felt a bad for having jumped to conclusions, though he really had no way of knowing. Guilt was something that both boys seemed to be able to cultivate easily in the well fertilized fields of their emotions. He also felt sympathy for her, knowing what it was like to have your mind and emotions turned against you. And he was angry, angry at the Demon - well, demons in general – their disregard for life, how they twisted lives and truth. He was angry at this s.o.b. who had stripped more innocence from an already torn and damaged soul. So he focused. He took the emotion and turned it into the raw energy that made him the extraordinary hunter he was, shifting his mind into overdrive and his body on high alert.

And the hunt began.

--------

Hundreds of miles away, a man lay in a hospital bed. His room was full of medical machinery, keeping alive an otherwise dead body. He was wasted away and atrophied – a weak and feeble shell of the human he used to be. His mind was the only part of him that seemed to be functioning of its own accord, but since he had been unconscious for months, the doctors were not really sure if that was even truly working.

All at once the machines that beeped and blipped, monitoring every aspect of his condition, went haywire. Alarms went off on almost all of the machines. Nurses and the resident on call came running into the man's room. But as quickly as it started, it ended, and the machines returned to their normal cacophony.

"Huh. It looks like he had some kind of seizure," the resident stated, marking his chart. "I've just never seen anything quite like that before. We'll have to run some tests."

A/N - Thanks to all who review, and thanks to all who are continuing with me on this journey. Much love to my test subjects, J.A.Carlton, Mom and mei mei. Thanks for enduring.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimers - Usual. Love the boys, but wouldn't dream of trying to own them. And thanks, Kripke, for the hours of fun and inspiration.

Chapter 6

After a few minutes of crying, Kaitlyn was spent. She was exhausted with the other activities of the day. She spent the next 15 minutes or so pulling herself back together and preparing to return to the two men still waiting in her room. Her head was spinning with the new information about the car accident, but she didn't really know what it meant, if anything. How would this change what she was doing? She'd already decided to join the fight. If the information was shown to her in an attempt to paralyze her into inaction, it didn't work. After smoothing out her appearance as best she could in the rearview mirror, Kaitlyn got out of her car and went back to her motel room. She could hear talking coming from inside, but she couldn't hear what was being said, nor had she the energy to attempt eavesdropping. She walked right in.

The men's conversation paused as they stopped to look at her. "Hey," Sam said. "Are you all right?"

Kaitlyn nodded and offered him an apologetic smile. "Yeah. Sorry about that." The men looked at her questioningly. "Sorry about freaking out on you… And I apologize for putting you in danger, Sam. I didn't really think about what would happen if he came back while we were… connected."

"'S'okay. Do you want to talk about it?" Sam clarified, "About the accident?"

"Not really. It doesn't change anything."

Sam looked at her disbelievingly. He understood from personal experience the kind of mark something like that leaves on a person. He knew how he had felt about Jess's death.

Knowing what Sam was feeling, Kaitlyn tried to explain. "Look. I have the rest of my life to dwell on what I saw and think about what it means. Right now, it doesn't change what I'm doing, what I'm going to do, and it won't help me get any closer to finding out who this guy is or what he wants. Besides, knowing now doesn't change what happened, and it wouldn't have changed anything then. I still wouldn't have been able to prevent it."

"Okay." Dean was ready to start moving in a forward direction. He had never been one to wait patiently. "So…what now?"

The three of them looked at each other, none of them really having any idea where to begin. Kaitlyn, being the least experienced in this arena, decided to let the brothers take the lead. She sat, watching them work, and hoping she would be in some way useful.

"Well, we know this guy is a telepath and experienced in the use of his abilities. Do you get any kind of read from him?" Sam asked Kaitlyn.

"Umm, no. But I haven't really been trying. My attention hasn't been on him, it's been on me…" She started thinking and wondering how much she could get from the man. If he was just an average person, she didn't think she'd be able to get more than his feelings and maybe a vague sense of direction, which she could use like a divining rod to try to find water. Despite the fact that he was a telepath, she didn't know if she would be able to connect with him the way she could with the chosen ones, but she hoped she would get at least as much information from him. But even in the best of times, or worst of times, depending on how you looked at it, she still barely got anything more than emotions from the chosen - images, sounds, smells. Things tended to be chaotic due to the fact that how one person interprets information is not the way someone else will. So she experienced things through someone else's filter and had to recreate what was happening so she could understand. The higher the emotion, the more distortion there was in how the event was perceived. Even the type of emotion elicited by an event changed how it was assimilated by the person. This is the reason eye witness accounts never match identically, and when they do, the accounts are viewed as suspicious and rehearsed.

Kaitlyn might have to risk getting in his head for information, rather than doing a scan of his emotional state of being. She always feared venturing into someone else's head. With practice, she had gotten used to differentiating between her emotions and the emotions of those around her. She had even learned how to distinguish between her memories and the abrupt, though unintentional, invasions of the chosen. Kaitlyn realized the men were still talking.

"…The laptop has a couple of files on telepaths and their abilities that seem to be divided by what, exactly, the person does while in someone else's head. Alex was thorough in her categorizations. We're still waiting on information from your cop friend and whether or not this man is in any system."

"Do you think he's one of ours?" Dean asked.

"He's not one of the chosen, if that's what you mean. At least, not one who had a fire." Kaitlyn offered.

"But he did mention that he had been told a secret about you. It has to be the Demon that told him. No one else would know something like that," Sam hypothesized.

"Maybe, but that still doesn't mean he's one of the Demon's…like Andy's brother. It could just be the Demon using him to get to me. We just don't know."

Dean sighed in frustration. "Man, I hate this. I'm beginning to feel like one of those conspiracy theorists who think some black helicopter organization is behind everything."

Sam had the same feeling. There was danger in giving the Demon more credit than it deserved, but there was possibly greater danger in underestimating it. It seemed that every demon they came across had access to the same information about them. He didn't know if they should be flattered or just plain terrified - or maybe both.

Kaitlyn smiled at the sentiment, but was quickly distracted. She felt a familiar charge that left the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. _He's baaaack._ He was being quiet right now. She wasn't sure if the psychic blow she'd given him earlier had left him weak and unable to do more than listen, or if he was intentionally trying to be subtle – gathering information. She tried to keep her mind as focused on the men in the room as she could, while reaching out for the tablet that every motel seems to keep on the nightstand with the phone. She also picked up the pencil and started writing.

"All right. What else do we have to work with?" Dean figured there had to be something they missed, something that would give them a more solid place to start. "You don't remember anything else about the man?" He turned to Kaitlyn. He noticed she was writing on the notepad while, almost too intensely, focusing on him. Something wasn't right.

"No. I didn't even get a name. For how eager he is to torment, he seems afraid to identify himself." She was taunting the uninvited "guest", trying to keep him distracted from what she was writing.

Sam also seemed to sense something was amiss and gave Kaitlyn an odd look. "We could pass his picture on to Ash. He might be able to come up with something your cop friend can't." Sam suggested.

"It's possible." Kaitlyn stood up and walked over to the table at which Dean was sitting. She made sure to be looking directly into Sam's eyes as she slid the notepad onto the table in front of Dean. She honestly didn't know how much awareness the other had when he was in her mind. Did he feel everything she felt or was he focused on certain aspects of the experience? When she knew the paper was in place, she turned her mind's eye inward, moving as quickly as she could to have the element of surprise. She didn't want the man to suspect what she was going to attempt.

In her mind, she could see the thread that connected the man with her own consciousness. She mentally tethered herself to a stake that held her own thread to her end. Then she used his thread as a zip line and rode it into the realm of his mind. All the while she fought hard against the fear from the waves of "what ifs," only briefly letting herself get sprayed by thoughts, but trying to use her mental momentum to outrun her own doubts. Then she landed on solid ground.

Immediately her body collapsed into unconsciousness.

Dean barely had time to read the note Kaitlyn put in front of him when she dropped to the floor, falling in such a way that she merely looked like she was sitting on the floor resting against the foot of the bed. Both he and Sam had tried to react, but it happened so fast Sam could only keep her in a seated position instead of sliding the rest of the way to the floor.

"What the hell?" Dean looked at Sam, who could only shrug.

"What does the paper say?"

Dean handed it to Sam. "What do you make of it?"

Sam read the hastily scribbled note.

_He's here. I'm going on a trip to see what I can see._

"She wouldn't…"

"What?" Dean had lifted her onto the bed and was checking her pulse and breathing.

"I… I think she's trying to… to get inside his mind." Sam had felt her terror the last time this guy had been in her mind. He had to admire her courage…or wonder at her naivety, which seemed a nicer word than stupidity.

"Damn."

"Yeah."

"Well…what do we do?" _How stupid can you be? Man, I hate this mind melding crap. She couldn't wait until she was sitting on the bed to take a spirit walk?_ Dean also hated feeling useless.

"Watch and wait, I guess. I'll send that picture to Ash and see if he comes up with anything." Sam didn't like not being able to do anything any better than Dean. "How is she?"

"She seems fine. Her heartbeat's a little erratic, but her breathing is…regular, which seems a little…I don't know, weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, for how suddenly this all happened, and with her heartbeat not being so regular…It just seems… mechanical." The brothers looked at each other, not sure what to make of that.

Dean was right. In fact, her breathing was so regular that it matched time with the ventilator of the unconscious man lying in his hospital bed hundreds of miles away.

-------

tbc

A/N - By way of reminder, Alex is from J.A. Carlton's stories "Hollow" and "Legacy."

Thanks for the reviews. Just as a word of... warning... the next two chapters contain very little of our beloved boys. Don't worry, the next two chapters are NOT both about Kaitlyn. So I ask that you bare with me for two chapters and then our boys will be back and in full hunter mode. Mostly. :)

Thanks again to my godsents - J.A. Carlton (if you appreciate how she's helped me out, go check out her latest story, or any of her others. She rocks!), Mom and Mei mei. Love to you all.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer - Same. Oh, and Thank you J.K. Rowling for the Harry Potter series. Hope you don't mind my referencing your work.

Chapter 7

Thomas knew at once that something was wrong. He had played in enough minds to notice changes, and Kaitlyn's body seemed somehow vacant. It also occurred to him that she seemed to have just passed out, though he thought he could hear the voices of the two men with which she had recently become acquainted. The next thing he felt was a certain "crowding." That was the only word he could use to describe it. It took him a second, but he realized his mistake. She was a psychic. Not nearly as able as he was, but somehow she had managed to follow his lifeline to his own body. At first he was afraid. What would she do to him here? But that voice that often spoke to him and guided him, reminded him that he was, after all, much more powerful than she. And really, what better way to torment her than to show her the many things he had done to his other puppets. He might even be able to trap her here. His fear became a shiver of excitement and glee and he went back to his body. It was his mind; he would lay out the welcome mat and set up a playground, just for her.

He found her easily enough. He was even amused at the difficulty she seemed to be having. She wasn't a true telepath, so watching her was like watching a blind person trying to feel her way around a new environment. He let out a long cruel laugh and watched Kaitlyn hesitate with the realization that she may have gotten in over her head, so to speak.

"Come into my parlor," he whispered to Kaitlyn, while his mental avatar circled her.

-------

At first, Kaitlyn couldn't see anything. She was no longer in her own mind and she could not control the environment as she would have been able to in her own space. She could still see the lifeline, and she thought this would be her best bet for getting to the heart of the information she needed. She watched in fascination as she saw that she left behind glowing footprints. She kept her hand running along the lifeline of this man's consciousness, or subconscious, she wasn't sure which, until it stopped - tied to what appeared to be a door knob. She ghosted her hands over the structure in front of her and again watched with interest as a door appeared in the same phosphorescent light that her feet left. Apparently, as she assimilated information from this mind to hers, it became visible to her.

She turned the doorknob and entered into the house. How she knew it was a house, she wasn't sure, but she figured it had something to do with what the other psychic wanted her to know. She walked down the hallway toward the back of the house, with her hands stretched to either side of her. Every item her fingertips slipped over glowed, illuminating a little more of her environment as she went. She felt she was being watched, but thought that was probably par for the course. As the hallway was just too wide for her finger tips to touch both sides at the same time, she moved closer to the right side so she could better light her way. She felt her fingers run over the edge of a picture frame, but instead of feeling glass or paint inside the frame, she felt something wet. She looked at her fingertips, but in the odd, dim light, whatever was on them looked black. She wiped her hand on her pants and then, with both hands, she outlined the picture frame. In the glow of the frame, she could make out the picture inside. Like a Harry Potter portrait, this picture moved. But it captured and replayed a specific event. Kaitlyn watched as a woman, who was obviously panic stricken, ran to the edge of a building and then continued, running right off. The movie that played out showed the ten story drop and the sickening impact on the pavement below. The impact spattered blood, and it was this that caused the wetness that Kaitlyn had touched on first contact with the painting.

Kaitlyn turned her head while simultaneously covering her mouth with one hand and grabbing her stomach with the other. She concentrated for a moment to keep herself from vomiting. _Funny, I don't even have a body, but I think I'm gonna puke._ She took a few steps away from the picture and leaned one hand against the wall for support before continuing on, leaving a glowing handprint behind.

On the same side of the hallway, Kaitlyn came across three other paintings. Each one featured a woman killing herself in some way, to escape a terror that only she could see. At the second picture, Kaitlyn had noticed a gold engraved placard at the bottom. It gave a name and a date. She went back to the first picture, trying hard to avoid actually looking at the images, and found a similar name and date designation. By the fourth picture on the right side of the hall, Kaitlyn felt a need to investigate the left side of the hallway. She needed to know how many more women there were. She headed back down the hall this time touching the opposite wall. There were five more paintings on that side. That made nine women total, and this was just the front hall. She prayed and hoped this didn't mean what she thought it might.

As she headed away from the front door again, she stayed in the middle of the hall so she wouldn't have to touch either wall, or the paintings, or the blood that seeped from each one. Each woman in the paintings had died with their eyes open. This was not a significant fact in and of itself, but, as she walked down the hall, nine pairs of eyes seemed to track her movement. The dead eyes were remarkably expressive, fixing Kaitlyn with either accusing stares or fear-filled despair. In the dim light, she could see that the hall opened into a circle that surrounded the base of a stairway. She grabbed the rail and started to head up the stairs, but a thudding noise that repeated itself several times and at varying distances from her, made Kaitlyn stop and look behind her. Each of the women from the pictures had crawled out of their frames and landed with a thud on the ground. Many of them had bodies that stuck out at unnatural angles or had gaping wounds that no living person could sustain and remain alive. They shone in the same dim light Kaitlyn's touch had left behind, adding to the odd glow in the hall, though never making the area bright. As the women, moving like zombies from a bad movie, slowly made their way to her, Kaitlyn ran. _Yeah, run up the stairs. You know there is never a way to escape once you get up the stairs. _She didn't have a choice, though. The only door she had yet seen was the front door and she wasn't going to make through the women to that.

In direct contrast to the floor below her, the landing at the top of the stairs was full of doors. _Well, at least there's more light now. _She was on the verge of laughing, probably a bit hysterically, but the only sound that escaped her constricted breathing passages was strangled noise, something between a laugh and a sob. She ran for the first door and got inside the room. Quickly she turned and locked the door. She was once again thrust into darkness. As quickly and as carefully as she could, Kaitlyn went around the room touching as many things as she could and still keep upright and moving. She could hear heavy footfalls in the hall, but without being able to see, she had no way to escape. Once she had a bare minimum of light in the room, she saw it was a library. _Ugh. This doesn't help me at all._ And to her horror, she could see that there were two other entrances to the room. The two doors, on opposite walls from each other, and the door she came in on the third wall made three entrances into the room. _And no windows_. She locked the door to the left of her entrance, then headed to the other door.

Kaitlyn went through it and immediately, she turned and locked the door behind her. She started her circle through this room, but stopped short when she heard a noise coming from the door that led to the hall. She rushed as carefully as she could to the hallway door to lock it. The woman on the other side already had it open by the time Kaitlyn got to it. She missed the doorknob the first time, so she put her hand on the door and slid it toward where the knob should have been until she could see it. Then she grabbed it and yanked as hard as she could, locking it once the door was closed. She put her hand on the wall and followed the wall around the room. She figured this room would also have a third door. Once she reached it, she turned the lock, and then proceeded to explore this room. This one was an office. Thinking of the way the psychic had filed through her memories, she hedged her bets and found the file cabinet.

The top drawer of the two-drawer file cabinet was locked, so Kaitlyn opened the bottom drawer. In it she saw hanging folders. Each was labeled with the names of the women from the pictures on the first floor. Shaking a little, she picked up the first folder and flipped through it. There were still shots of the woman while she was alive – pictures similar to the surveillance photos a private investigator would take…_or a stalker._ There were notes written on yellow lined legal paper, detailing a plan of attack for breaking the woman and leading her to her death. Kaitlyn was once again sickened and had to put the file back or risk losing her lunch.

She had an idea. The man was obviously proud of the work he had done on the women, equating it with a professional legal job or a work of art. She wondered what he wasn't so proud of, that he would lock the drawer. She closed the bottom drawer and tried again to open the top one. As expected, it was still locked. When Kaitlyn had first connected with Sam, she had to push gently through one of his subconscious barriers to gain access. She had done it gently enough to not hurt him. It was something she didn't usually like doing and hadn't done often, but she did know how. This time, she was going to push through a barrier, and she was not going to be gentle, if that's what it took.

The mind is an interesting place. In order to cope with things and organize thoughts, people often equate parts of the mind with something comparable in the physical realm. This file cabinet, for example, was a representation of important memories and events. If she could find a way to by-pass the lock and force open the first drawer, she might find information she could use. It could, of course, just be another trick of this man's mind, but she hoped the fact that the drawer was locked was significant. In her mind's eye, she imagined a thin metal crowbar, small enough to be wedged into the crack between the top of the drawer and the top of the cabinet. When she had the image firmly established, she reached into her back pocket and pulled it out, having given form to thought. She then jammed it into the cabinet and tried to jimmy it open. At first, she didn't think the drawer would budge, but slowly it gave way. Unfortunately, she noticed that, the more she struggled and succeeded, the more noise she heard outside the door of the room. The women had started pounding on the door.

Finally the drawer gave and popped open. Kaitlyn ghosted her hand over the surface of the files to illuminate them all at once. Each file had the name Thomas Wayne and various dates. She grabbed the first file and the last file in the drawer. She had barely gotten her hand out of the way when the drawer slammed shut of its own accord and she heard a shouted, "NO!" _Uh-oh._

All at once, she heard the locks to all three of the doors open and the women made their slow staggering entrance, crowding toward her. Only one door didn't have any women at it – the one that lead to the previously locked library. Kaitlyn ran to that door, opened it and ran through. Slamming the door behind her she locked it. She also re-locked the door to the hall. She ran to the next room, locked the door, and crossed that room as quickly and carefully as she could, to the door that she hoped would be there on the far side. As she glanced back, she would have laughed had her situation not been so terrifying. She was leaving glowing footprints on the floor. _Great! I'm Tinkerbell. Even if I don't touch anything, I leave a trail. They'll be able to find me anywhere._ She just hoped that these zombies were as stupid as the ones in the movies and followed behind her instead of thinking to cut her off. She found the door and tumbled into yet another room, following her recently established routine of turning and locking the door behind her. She headed, once again, for the far side of the room but found only wall. She was in the corner room of the house. _No windows! I can't even get out through a window. What am I going to do? Okay. Okay…_

Kaitlyn crept to the door that lead to the hall and opened it a crack. She looked for the telltale light of the women, trying to see if any were in the hall. Two of them were indeed in the hall and heading toward her. She thought for a moment, deciding that, with only two in the hall, her best chance was to make a run for it and try to avoid them. If she could make it to the front door, she'd be able to get back. She ran flat out, knowing it was pointless to try to be stealthy. They seemed to be able to sense her, even if, by some chance, they didn't follow the light trail she left wherever she went.

As she approached the first woman, she headed directly at her, again, banking on the zombie-type manifestations to be slow and not too bright. As the woman prepared to grab her, Kaitlyn quick-stepped to the side and ran past her. The second woman was too close, though, so she was going to have to push past her, ramming her with her shoulder to knock her out of the way. There was one problem to that plan. The instant she made contact with the woman, she became overwhelmed by images and feelings. It seemed that everything Thomas had put the woman through streamed at high speed from the zombie-woman into Kaitlyn. She stumbled and fell into the wall, hitting her head. She shook her head to try to clear it, and heard the sound of the doors opening, while light started to flood the upper landing. Kaitlyn pushed off the wall and headed to the stairs. Another woman grabbed her by the hair and tried to pull her back. Looking back later, she never would know how she managed it, but despite the flood of information that passed into her again, this time a different woman and different images and emotions, she managed to break free. She ran down the steps, jumping the last five and made a mad dash for the door. She reached the door and saw through the glass the triumphant and far too amused face of Thomas looking at her from the other side. He'd just locked the door and waved at her. Then he turned and reached for her lifeline.

"No!" She yelled and pulled at the door. She tried to find the lock mechanism, but it seemed Thomas had removed it. She turned to face the women as they approached. They filled the hall in front of her and she had no place to go. She turned back to the door and started pounding on it with everything she had.

-------

Despite the unnatural regularity of Kaitlyn's breathing, the Winchester brothers watched as she seemed to be in the throws of some kind of nightmare. Suddenly, she stilled and her eyes flew open. She sprang to her feet and made a break for the door.

Stunned by the abruptness of the change, the men acted on instinct. Sam grabbed Kaitlyn from behind to prevent her from leaving. When Thomas realized Kaitlyn's body, which he had confiscated, was pinned by the superior size and strength of the man holding her, he attacked Sam's mind.

Sam yelled out in pain, letting go of Kaitlyn and grabbing his head as he dropped to his knees. "Not… her," he ground out between clenched teeth, hoping Dean would understand.

There was a maniacal gleam in her eye. One which was strangely familiar to Dean. Added to what Sam said, Dean heard an almost audible click in his understanding. _That's the same creepy-assed expression on the face of the mystery man_. So Dean did the first thing that popped into his head. He punched her – knocking her out cold. _Sorry about that._ He put her back on the bed while checking on Sam. "You okay?"

"I think so." Sam pressed his finger into that spot above the nose and between the eyes. The pain was subsiding. "That was close."

-------

Kaitlyn was being grabbed from behind by several sets of hands, pulling at her, scratching and tearing to get a better grip on her. She was sobbing and close to passing out from everything swirling through her head. Her only coherent thought was, _don't let go of the door_. She had long since relinquished her hold on the files. Survival was her main objective now, but she didn't think she could hold on much longer.

_God, help me! Please_, she prayed, and with that, the door opened. The sudden shift of pressure as the door swung in actually caused several of the zombies to fall. She hoped one day she'd be able to look back on that and laugh, but right now she just hoped to be able to look back from a safe distance. Period. She managed to disentangle her legs from the fallen women and ran for all her worth to her lifeline – the zip line that would take her home. She grabbed hold and pushed with her feet.

When she landed on the shores of her own mind, she was a little confused by the sensations she was experiencing. But, before she could take stock of her physical condition, she had her own exorcism to perform. She found Thomas looking a bit stunned. Being knocked out had inadvertently caused him to release control over Kaitlyn's body and his own. Back in her own body, her body and soul served to bolster her energy, strength and determination. She pushed out with all her strength, like she had only hour or two ago, though it seems like months, and Thomas went flying from the shores of her mind.

She was frightened for a moment when her body didn't respond to her, but as she settled into herself, she woke up.

"Ow." Kaitlyn reached up and felt her jaw. A nice sized egg was beginning to form there and it hurt to touch. She sat up in bed.

"Yeah. Uh. Sorry about that." Dean said, scratching his head and looking uncomfortable. "But, you were trying to get away…Well, not you, exactly…but…"

"It's okay," Kaitlyn chuckled. "Thanks. A lot." Despite her smile, silent tears started to stream down her face. Her thankfulness at being alive and in her own body was enough to bring tears to her eyes, but with each minute that passed, more and more of the memories she had absorbed weaved themselves into the tapestry of her own memories and soon she was struggling to hold herself together.

Sam came over and offered his shoulder and the shelter of an embrace until the storm passed and she could compose herself.

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tbc

A/N - Thanks for the reviews to all who have stuck with me; and thanks to J.A. Carlton, Mom, and Mei mei. You're moral support has made a world of difference in keeping me motivated to finish this story.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimers - Usual. Thanks to Kripke and all the writers and the CW/WB for letting me play in your playground. Thanks to them and all the other staff who do such a wonderful job at inspiring the imagination.

Chapter 8

Thomas Wayne was a small man. It wasn't that he was particularly small in stature; it was more that he was insignificant. Worse than that, he let himself be insignificant, though he knew in his heart he was destined for great things. Thomas Wayne had grown up the only child of a single mother. He had been conceived by accident, if there is such a thing, and it seemed to set the tone of his entire life. He was not particularly picked on in school, but he never stood out either. He wasn't unpopular, but he wasn't especially liked. He simply existed, largely unnoticed by his peers. At parent-teacher conferences, the few his mother actually chose to attend, the teachers all said that he was quiet and well behaved in class - a very generic report about a child they would never remember.

His mother really had never thought of him as special, either. In fact, she rarely thought of him at all. She had her life to live, and, since it was by accident that he was a part of it, she really didn't care what he did or didn't do, as long as he did not complicate her life any more than his existence already had. And if things got complicated, she chose to listen to the parenting advice that said if you ignore unwanted behavior, it will go away. So she ignored Thomas Wayne altogether. She would send him to his room or outside, and if they happened to be in the same room, she pretended he didn't exist. This would go on for days at a time. Thus, Thomas learned quickly that he had to make his own food and get himself ready for school. She made sure he had available to him whatever he needed physically, but the physical is not the only aspect that makes that person a living, sentient being. His soul never really had a chance to live, and so it died, leaving Thomas Wayne with only his mind.

Thomas' mind was really the only exceptional thing about him. He was creative and intelligent, though unmotivated and unfocused. As a young pre-teen, he spent many hours alone, and it was during this alone time that he discovered he had talents beyond those of the mortal men around him. He found that he could communicate with animals. It was a very simple communication. There were no conversations. It was more that he could feel their basal emotions and instincts. He found that he could manipulate these, causing the animals to act contrary to their nature. At first he forced companionship, pretending to live a fairy tale life, for he was not only lonely and insignificant to those around him, but his lack of any real connections left him living in fear and insecurity. His animal "friends" were guaranteed company, for he made it so.

Eventually, this companionship became unfulfilling to Thomas. These relationships were boring, at best; and hollow and unreal, at worst. The fantasies of youth gave way to the center-of-the-universe ideology of the teenage years. He learned new ways to entertain himself; for if he could be entertained, he would be distracted and he forgot how empty and insignificant his life was. His delusions grew from those of fairy tales to those of gods. He became a god to his animal dominion. He found he was able to control the life and destiny of other living things. He started testing his power on wild animals – squirrels, chipmunks, and eventually deer - anything bigger than that frightened him too much to get close to. No one asked about random wild animals that went missing or were found dead. He smiled to himself when, one year, the news reported an unusually high amount of accidents on a stretch of road. Rangers were even called in to find out what was driving the deer out of the safety of the woods. They never found anything, and the story was forgotten, just like everything else Thomas did.

He started to get bored and restless, so he progressed to a stray cat or dog here and there. He learned, quite accidentally, that family pets were a more interesting game. Their deaths, or suffering, were not limited to the experience of the animal, but had ramifications on people. His feelings of importance and power began to expand. While he never tried to affect the minds of humans outright, he did find ways to terrify them and cause suffering using animals. This was his favorite hobby. He was careful, so as not to attract attention. Instead, he took months to prepare for even the smallest events, as he liked to think of them; meticulously planning them and waiting until he was practically bursting with enthusiasm and anticipation. He enjoyed the sense of self-control he felt when he was able to resist the temptation to hurt things on a whim. After all, gods control others, they do not let things control them, even their own emotions.

Thomas' secret hobby changed him. By the time he was twenty, he had gained confidence, a sense of importance, and a smile that wouldn't quit. None of the things that every day life threw at him would get him down, for he always had his hobby to reassure him of his superiority and power. Some people were drawn to his confidence; but it was somehow twisted, and most people feared him for reasons they couldn't put their finger on. Thomas knew that it was because humans instinctively recognized and feared higher beings than themselves, which only served to bolster his life of illusion.

But then, as sometimes happens, life conspired against him. Gods-who-aren't find that, at some point, the illusions they cling to are stripped away and they must choose to bow to their Superior, or fall. Thomas got fired from his job. The girl he had his eye on became engaged to another man. He still had no friends to speak of. And he found himself living with his aging and now belligerent mother. For all the control he held over other forms of inferior life, control over his own life and destiny was still beyond his grasp. Depression took hold of him for the first time in years. He lost interest in everything, including the one hobby that had given him everything. At the tender age of 22, he tried to commit suicide.

It's ironic that this one failure gave Thomas Wayne everything he wanted, and more. His botched suicide left him trapped in his own body. He was on life support. He couldn't function on his own. He hadn't regained consciousness in months. And he'd never been happier. Admittedly, at first, the position he was in was maddening, but then he made a friend. It was the first friend he'd ever made who was not a fabrication of his own mind. Better yet, he could tell, as all humans instinctively can, that he was dealing with a superior being. The yellow-eyed Demon spoke to Thomas.

In his place of safety, Thomas Wayne once again believed he was a god. After all, another god had told him so, and had shared plans of the future with him. He was free from every constraint life would have thrown at him and every responsibility he would have had, if his body functioned like an ordinary mortal. He learned the extent of his abilities and started using them on humans. He learned he could read minds. He could also control the perceptions of the person he had chosen to connect with. He lived life through others, becoming intimately familiar with people through their thoughts, feelings, routines, and memories. He then turned those very things against them.

His first test was his mother. Within a week of Thomas Wayne encountering the yellow-eyed Demon, his mother had gone crazy and committed suicide. Everyone suspected she had loved Thomas more than they had opportunity to witness. What mother didn't love her own child? It must have been heartbreaking for her to see him suffering as he was. That's what people said. Thomas Wayne laughed.

He chose other victims - other woman. He savored each. He planned as meticulously as before, but, unfettered by the normal limitations of time, his planning went much quicker. He also knew that no one would ever suspect anything. He was in a coma, and the death of each of his victims had been declared a suicide. It was an art form to him and he was proud of his paintings. His only regret was that no one else would see what he was capable of and recognize him for what he was.

Thomas Wayne sought out other minds, searching for new victims. Occasionally, he would be directed by his yellow-eyed friend, the only one with whom he could share his work. But one day, he found a mind that stood out to him. He had been pointed in her direction by his companion; he was told secrets about her; and promised she would be a change of pace. She would be a painting to be proud of when all was finished. In her mind swam images of monsters and horror and blood and fear. She had been touched by loss and something dark – something indefinable, but familiar – and yet she had remained relatively unmarred. She had, to a much lesser degree than he, a gift of the mind also. She could experience the feelings of others, much like Thomas could. She was even able to sense his presence, putting up defenses to keep him out. Before pressing his mind into hers, he did surveillance. He studied her through the minds of those around her. He saw that she was also an artist and this excited him all the more. Maybe she would understand his creations. And if she joined him, he knew he could make her immortal, like himself.

She was planning a trip and Thomas Wayne decided he would have to move into her mind and make contact. If she got too far away from him, he might not be able to find her amidst the chaos of voices - the background noise of the other, less worthy, humans. His initial attempt to make contact was blocked, so he changed tactics. He discovered that if he hung on the periphery of her awareness, through the avenue of her physical senses, she would be aware of him, but unable to shake him. He shadowed her for a week. She met with another psychic, though, and they found too much common ground. He could feel it in the way they connected. He decided that she was tainted and unworthy of becoming his goddess, but she would still make an exciting next victim.

Thomas Wayne knew Kaitlyn in a way few others did, or ever would, and all he wanted now, was to kill her. It would be fun. It would be easy.

That's what he thought. But Kaitlyn had done something he hadn't thought possible. She had gotten into his head. He had decided to play with her there. It was his home turf, after all. He might even trap her and torment her there. But then she escaped. With the help of her two new friends, she had escaped.

Dean and Sam Winchester were a problem. They were knowledgeable about psychic activity. Sam was one. They were knowledgeable about a lot of other things, too, and he realized where many of the images from Kaitlyn's mind had come from. Thomas Wayne had touched Sam's mind twice, and it was powerful. He could barely conceive the possibility that Sam was a threat to him. This was not something he had considered before.

Time was working against Thomas now. He had never felt drained of energy before his encounter with Kaitlyn, but now he was tired. He had to find a way to break her quickly or risk further interference by the two men. Leaving her alone was no longer an option. She knew too much and so did they. He had to get rid of her. There was a veiled threat made by the demon if this one got away, that he would not be considered worthy of special consideration.

At the time, Thomas had thought the yellow-eyed being simply wasn't yet convinced of his god-hood. But then it came back with an offer. One of its emissaries had arrived to tell him that Kaitlyn was his to play with, but that he also had to take care of Dean and Sam. Dean he could kill, but Sam had to be kept prisoner until the yellow-eye Demon came to take him for his own. Thomas thought this very unfair. After all, who was Sam that he deserved such easy access to the gods?

Thomas was unsure of himself for the first time in a long time. _Bitch!_ It was all her fault. She would pay for making him doubt himself. He decided that this was a test, like the tests Hercules had to undergo to prove he was a demigod and worthy of the title. _I am superior, and I will prove it. She will cower before me! And I will take care of the other two as well. _He started formulating a new plan. Things would happen quickly, now, and someone was going to die.

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tbc

A/N Sorry for the short chapter. And thanks for baring with me on this one. I know it's a little out of sync with the rest of the story, but hopefully it adds to it rather than distracting. And... The boys are back with the next chapter. They'll be in it from here on out.

Thanks for reviewing. Thanks the support. J.A. Carlton, Mom, Mei mei - thanks for making this story so much better.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimers - Usual. I'm just enjoying the fruits of someone else's ... ideas.

Chapter 9

Kaitlyn had fallen asleep, exhausted not only from her foray into Thomas' mind, but also from the after-effects of assimilating the memories and emotions of the other victims. The stress left her defenses crumbling. Without protection, she would not only be left at the mercy of a madman, but she would also run the risk of being swept away by the emotions of every person she came in contact with. So her body shut down to allow her reserve energy to be used for rebuilding and fortifying her defenses.

Once Sam realized Kaitlyn had fallen asleep, he gently laid her on the bed. Then he motioned with his head to indicate to Dean that he wanted to talk outside the room, so as not to disturb her. The brothers slipped out to discuss their next course of action.

"So, what do you think happened?" The mental games of psychics were unfamiliar territory for both men, and it left Dean uncomfortable. Something had happened; that much was clear. But he couldn't even hazard a guess as to what it was.

Sam could only shrug and sigh. "I don't know. I guess we'll have to wait until she wakes up."

"Well…what do you want to do?" It wasn't typical for Dean to defer to Sam, but, as limited as their experience was, Sam had a better handle on what was going on. If nothing else, he had managed to read through most of Alex's files on psychic phenomena of various types.

"I don't think she should be left alone. If …whoever he is… found a way to take over her body, who knows what else he can do to her."

"Or how he could use her."

"Yeah." Sam sighed. He didn't like not having something they could pin down and hunt. Despite being ethereal, even demons and spirits had rules – laws - they had to obey. He knew the psychic would have limits and laws to follow as well, he just didn't know what those were, yet.

"Okay. I'm going to get our stuff from Ellen's and get a room here for the night. I'll check in with Ash, too. See if he's come up with any information. Maybe we'll figure something out once she wakes up. And Sam?" Dean waited until he had Sam's complete attention. "Be careful. She's not safe."

"Isn't that the point of me staying here?" Sam asked with a half smile.

"You know what I mean. I mean she's not safe for you."

"Yeah, I know." Sam felt disheartened by the admission. He couldn't help but think that none of them were safe – "them" being the psychics. And he wondered how long it would be before someone would give Dean the same advice about him.

Dean watched Sam a few seconds. He saw the return of the weight Sam carried. It seemed that, for a few hours, Kaitlyn had lifted some of the burden Sam carried, giving him hope that he would be all right in the end. Sometimes it felt like they were fighting a losing battle, trying to climb a hill of loose gravel and rocks with each slip and mis-step threatening to bury them in an avalanche of pain and darkness. _I'm not going to let you go, Sammy. I swear, even if I'm buried with you. You will not go alone._

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Only about an hour passed before Dean stealthily re-entered Kaitlyn's motel room. He smiled to himself as he found Sam sleeping in the hotel chair, looking very uncomfortable with his head bent back at an odd angle and his mouth hanging open. He pulled out his camera-phone and clicked a picture while snickering quietly.

Sam's head snapped up when Dean closed the motel room door. He grew suspicious when he caught sight of the devilish smile playing on Dean's lips.

"Way to stand guard there, G.I. Joe." Dean kept his voice a low whisper to keep from waking Kaitlyn. He waved his phone at Sam to show that he had proof of his slacking for future ribbing, maybe even blackmail.

Sam just rolled his eyes, and smiled sheepishly at his lapse in guard duty. Man, had he been tired! It always amazed him how expending mental energy could be as draining as hard physical labor.

Kaitlyn shifted in her sleep, let out a small moan, and then startled awake. She groaned again and brought her hands to her eyes, rubbing them, and trying to wake up.

"Hey," Sam said gently with a small smile.

Kaitlyn looked at both men, trying to clear her head. She gave them a tired smile, and with half closed eyes and a lazy wave of her hand, she said, "Hey" back and headed to the bathroom.

Dean snorted. "She has a harder time waking up than you do, Sleeping Beauty."

"Ha. Ha." Sam gave Dean a nod, "So what'd you find out?"

"Well, not much." Dean started spilling the information he'd gotten, glancing at Kaitlyn as she came back out of the bathroom and sat on the bed expectantly. "The portrait you drew," he watched Kaitlyn more intently to see her reactions, "is a man named Thomas Wayne." Kaitlyn nodded as if this information was not new to her. "But, according to a newspaper article Ash found, the dude's in a coma in the hospital. Apparently, he tried to commit suicide and didn't quite finish the job. He's on life support in a small private facility in Pennsylvania. That's it. There's nothing else about him on record. Nothing Ash could find, anyway."

Sam frowned. "There's gotta be something."

"No." Kaitlyn's voice was quiet and she was looking at her hands. When she raised her eyes and saw both men watching her, she cleared her throat and tried to organize what she had seen and put it into words. With slow, carefully-weighed words, she explained. "There wouldn't have to be anything else about him. Everything he does… did… to the other women… it was all in their heads."

"Wait. What women?" Dean didn't like the sound of where this was going. He was really beginning to hate head games with a passion. Three times he'd had psychic powers used against him by people touched by the Demon: twice, he'd almost gotten his head blown off, and once he lost his beloved car. He really didn't think his luck would continue to hold out indefinitely.

"What did you see?" Sam coaxed Kaitlyn when he saw her hesitate.

"There were… women - nine women. He killed them all without ever even touching them." Her fear was starting to grow, as she realized what exactly it meant for her to be marked by him. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs before continuing. "He…I don't know, I really only saw the end result, but, it looked like he…somehow, drove them to suicide. I…know their names." The last statement was nearly whispered and Kaitlyn had to fight with herself to keep her emotions in check. Though she'd never met any of them personally, they had become part of her and she silently mourned their passing.

Sniffing, she grabbed the pad of paper she had used earlier and wrote down all the names, as well as the dates of their deaths. She didn't trust herself to speak the information and still hold herself together. This level of self-absorption, however necessary for her emotional stability, also served another purpose. It temporarily cocooned her, blocking off the emotions coming from the men. She was vaguely aware of this separation, but didn't think she had the strength to deal with someone else's emotions anyway, nor did she currently have the mental faculties to contemplate what this meant for her in a broader sense. All her energy was being spent staying afloat so she could be of use to the brothers.

Kaitlyn needed a change of focus. "Are you guys hungry?" she asked, fishing through the night stand and pulling out a laminated piece of paper that listed all of the local restaurants and fast food places. "I can order in pizza."

Sam was looking over the list of names she had written down. He sat at the small motel table and turned on the laptop to begin the search for information, or confirmation of the deaths of these women. The first name stood out to Sam. "Uh, yeah, sure…" Sam said distractedly. "Didn't you say his name was Thomas Wayne?"

"Yeah," Dean confirmed and Kaitlyn nodded agreement.

"Well, this first one… the woman's name is Margret Wayne…" Sam let the statement hang as he started pulling up newspaper articles that contained her name.

While Sam was looking up the information, Kaitlyn went ahead and ordered the food. With the brothers busy, she grabbed a few things and took a shower. She loved showers. They were her respite from the world. She loved the feeling of being wrapped in warmth, like a comforting embrace. Stepping out, clean and refreshed, was like a new beginning, no matter the time of day. She did her best thinking and praying in the shower, and some of her most important decisions were made during that time. It was during this quiet time that her soul rejuvenated and strengthened the rest of her. She exited the shower with a genuine smile, still tired, but ready for the next scene in this most bizarre episode of her life.

When she stepped back into the main part of the room, she noticed that Dean wasn't there and Sam was hard at work on the laptop. "Where's Dean?"

"Uh…He went out to pick up a few things." Sam said absently while pouring over the various tabs he had open at the same time, making notes on the motel pad.

A few minutes later, Dean walked in – six pack in one hand, pizza in the other. "Signature," he said while putting his load down on the table. Kaitlyn went to the door and found the pizza girl waiting on the other side. When she saw Kaitlyn, her face fell. She had obviously been anticipating the return of the handsome gentleman who had relieved her of her delivery. Kaitlyn chuckled to herself. Shaking her head a little, she signed the receipt and closed the door.

"I think she was expecting a tip from you," Kaitlyn jokingly stated to Dean, who already had a slice of pizza in one hand and a beer in the other.

"I can't just give this away to anyone," he said with his signature, cocky grin.

Sam snorted, "Oh yeah? Since when?"

"I have my standards." Dean put on a much-offended face. He sighed and shook his head, "Ah Sam. One day you'll understand. There is a time and place for everything." He favored Sam with a patronizing smile and a pat on the shoulder. While he was glad the mood had lightened considerably in his absence, the conversation only reminded him of the one person he could give himself to, wholly. And he had no idea where she was or if she was okay. He could count the days since they had last been together. Though they weren't actively looking for Laura, he ran a quick search every day, not sure which he wanted more – to see her name and know where she was; or not to see it, and be able to hope for the best.

With the return of her inner calm, Kaitlyn relaxed in the light atmosphere and was caught off guard by the deep currents of sadness that stirred through Dean's emotions, however briefly. _I wonder who she is_. She regarded Dean for another moment.

"Okay," Sam said, grabbing a piece of pizza. Dean opened a beer for him. Sam looked at Kaitlyn, "All the names check out. Each woman committed suicide. But, none of the women were connected in any way that I can see. And with each death being ruled a suicide, no pattern was ever established. No one linked them. But," Sam held up his finger to emphasize his point, "each death occurred after Thomas had gone into a coma. His mother was the first one to commit suicide."

Dean whistled.

"Yeah. Everyone assumed she had been distraught over the incident with her son - according to the paper."

"Okay. So…Road-trip." Dean smiled, glad to finally have a solid lead. "Looks like we head to Pennsylvania tomorrow and try to get this taken care of." Dean lifted his bottle in a mock toast.

"And do what, Dean?" Sam asked with an edge to his voice. He could guess what Dean's first solution to the problem would be. "We're not going to kill him."

"I never said that," Dean said defensively.

"No, but you were thinking it."

Dean huffed. "Thank you, Missouri." They'd had this conversation before, and with seemingly increasing frequency. He loved Sam's innocence, but sometimes you had to take care of the evil, even if it wore a human face. "We can at least get more information. Maybe interview the families."

Kaitlyn listened to the conversation with interest. She could feel the frustration coming from both men. This had obviously been ground already covered in past arguments. As much as she believed in mercy and forgiveness, she also believed in justice, and she just didn't see how the authorities would be able to take care of a case like this… If they could even be convinced of the truth of the situation. But she didn't like the idea of killing a defenseless man. _No, scratch that. He's anything but defenseless_.

A sudden prickling of her senses told Kaitlyn that Thomas was back. Unaware of any logical reason for doing it, she looked around the room and froze as her eyes locked onto the mirror. In the reflection, Kaitlyn saw Thomas standing behind her. Leering, he locked eyes with hers and reached out to touch her head. "Huuu…" she groaned and half slid to avoid the touch, half jumped from where she was sitting on the bed and spun around. Not seeing Thomas behind her, she spun again and took a short breath before holding it again. She became aware that the two men who were physically present in the room had stopped everything and were staring at her.

Kaitlyn gave a small nervous laugh. "Hallucinating?" She offered by way of explanation. She hoped that Sam and Dean's occupation would keep them from thinking she was losing her mind.

"Great! This just keeps getting better." Dean had a feeling this was going to be a very long night, and drive to Pennsylvania.

Sam watched Kaitlyn struggle to shake off her mounting fear. He could almost feel it as if it was his own. And he felt sorry for her. He thought this might be just the beginning of what was in store for the next couple of days. Sam could feel a headache building behind his eyes.

Kaitlyn looked over at Sam. She recognized the symptoms as the vision started before Sam even knew what was happening. "Sam."

Sam hissed and grabbed his head. Dean practically knocked his beer over in his fluid but quick motion, coming around the table and reaching for Sam at the same time. He had to get to Sam before he hit the floor.

Sam had been watching Kaitlyn, but the next thing he knew his world was consumed with blinding pain, followed by the few moments of reorientation while his mind's eye adjusted to what he was seeing. The pain lessened some and he felt himself relax. As he looked around, he saw he was in a nicely decorated room in a private care facility. There was a man lying on a bed attached to various types machines giving the illusion of life with their flurry of noise and activity. What grabbed Sam's attention though was the figure on the floor. In the small space between the bed and the wall, Kaitlyn lay on the floor. Dean was performing CPR on her.

"Nothing…come on!" Breathe. "Don't do this." Breathe. "Sam!?"

Then the world swirled, filling with color, sound, and a disconnected feeling. For a second he thought his head had finally exploded, but then pain came back with a vengeance and he knew it was still intact. When he was finally able to see again, he was sitting on the floor, Dean gave him support by holding him up against the wall. He felt a hand on his knee and followed the arm up to the face. Kaitlyn was watching him. Traces of her own headache still etched in her features, but fading - a blank numbness taking its place as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

Thomas laughed. Kaitlyn heard his laughter, felt his delight. His confidence increased ten-fold as Sam's vision confirmed his victory. _I have the perfect place for your portrait, _he whispered smugly. And he laughed again.

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tbc

A/N Thanks again for all of the reviews and for those who are journeying with me. Thanks, too, to J.A. Carlton, Mom, and mei mei. Love you all. I hope everyone had quite the enjoyable Christmas, too.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimers - Usual.

Chapter 10

Sleep deprivation. It was a tactic used to brainwash people. It was also a good way to keep someone off- balance and scared. And Thomas would not allow Kaitlyn to sleep. Every time she managed to fall asleep, nightmares started playing through her mind. They were rendered all the more terrifying because her subconscious knew that each nightmare was based on a real event. She closed her eyes - and relived the crash that killed her husband. She drifted off to sleep - and watched the last moments of each of Thomas' victims' lives, the culminations of his planning and tenacity. She felt his enthusiasm and pride in the sickening accomplishments that danced before her eyes. So she tried to stay awake.

Initially, the only thoughts that kept her company were those related to Sam's vision and seeing herself die. She tried to think of safeguards – ways to avoid that scene - but she knew she wouldn't be able to. That inevitability was terrifying, but it also stirred something awake in her that had yet to take hold. After a few hours, though, Thomas seemed to tire of her attempts to elude sleep and avoid the dreams, so he invaded her waking hours. He hung on the edge of her senses, causing her to hear a noise behind her or catch a glimpse of a shadow out of the corner of her eyes. He played in her periphery, heightening her fear, and driving her up the wall.

The lines between sleeping and waking blurred as the night went on. She couldn't tell when she'd fallen asleep, and she was never sure if she'd actually woken up or if she was still dreaming. It seemed Thomas most enjoyed re-animating her husband, then slipping to his own face, all the while remaining dead and bloody from the accident. He'd appear to her, whisper to her, threaten her. He also kept a near constant background noise of screams. In her exhaustion, she was maddeningly afraid, but increasingly frustrated and angry that he would use her husband and twist her memories to cause her fear and pain. She struggled not only with her emotions, but also to maintain her grasp on reality.

"Stop it!" she yelled, when she finally got angry enough. To her surprise, all the noise and pressure that had been building stopped.

She waited.

"Boo!" Thomas was standing behind her, smiling his repulsive, evil little smile. Kaitlyn let out a startled scream and spun, finding herself face-to-face with him. She backed into the wall. "Remember when you kicked me out of your head? You taught me something new, that emotions can be turned into energy… and pain…" Thomas reached out his hand and laid it on her head. He manipulated her sense of touch, as he had been doing with her senses of sight and sound. Her whole body erupted in pain and went rigid. It felt something akin to being shocked. Kaitlyn couldn't push him away, since he wasn't physically present; but that didn't really matter, as she couldn't move anyway. The pain was so all-consuming, she felt no sense of comfort in the knowledge that she was not going to die in this room.

_Sam! _ She reached out, finding Sam's mind through the haze. _Help me!_

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Sam was having a hard time sleeping. He couldn't help but feel that something wasn't right. After Kaitlyn's "hallucination," the three of them had sat down and talked about what, exactly, Kaitlyn had seen and experienced. They were hoping to glean as much information as possible from the limited contact they had with the elusive man. She had a few more incidents of sudden jumping or staring at something the two men couldn't see. Sam hated leaving her alone in her motel room, but neither he nor Dean really knew what they would be able to do for her anyway. And they had a long trip starting in the morning. They needed to get some sleep.

Dean noticed Sam's edginess and wondered how much of it was Sam's normal empathy, and how much was the connection he had forged with Kaitlyn. And Dean was pretty sure that there was, indeed, something connecting them. Sam flinched whenever Kaitlyn startled, and it looked like it pained him to leave her alone. He didn't know if either of them was aware of this new bond. And he only hoped it would wear off when Kaitlyn was no longer around. It wasn't that he didn't like her, he just thought a constant psychic connection with someone would prove to be a distraction. And in their business, any distraction could be fatal.

Sam sat straight up in bed when he heard Kaitlyn call to him for help. "Dean…Kaitlyn!" That was all it took for Dean to be up and moving, too. Dean was first to her room. He kicked in the door and scanned the interior looking for signs of an intruder. Sam pushed past him and spotted Kaitlyn standing rigidly against the wall as if pinned. Sam's stomach did a loopty-loop as the sight reminded him painfully of others he'd seen pinned to a wall.

"Kaitlyn?" Sam gently lifted her face with his hands so she would be able to see him. The instant he touched her, though, a current of pain shot through his hands. "Ouch!" he hissed, and reflexively pulled them away.

After another moment, whatever was going on – whatever Thomas was doing – stopped. The sudden lack of force holding her in place caused Kaitlyn to drop to the floor. She put her hand to her head and started to cry again. Sam knelt down and held her.

"I hate this," she whispered.

"Shhh…" Sam said comfortingly, rocking her a bit.

"No. I hate this," she repeated, her voice thick with tears. Sniffling, she pushed away from Sam and weakly got to her feet, wiping her eyes with her hands. "I hate feeling so out of control – so helpless." She let out a frustrated growl. "I hate being afraid."

"What happened?" Dean asked. _He_ hated feeling useless.

"Have you ever seen _The Princes Bride_?" Kaitlyn asked, bitterness lacing her voice. When Dean nodded in the affirmative, she continued. "Remember 'the machine'? Yeah… It was kind of like that."

Sam was giving her the worried look that Dean thought he'd been wearing far too much lately. He watched to see what was going to happen next.

"Uh, I know this might not be the best time to ask, but… What's going on with you two?" Dean needed to know if his suspicions were right, and if it was something he needed to be worried about in the future.

Sam gave him a questioning look, but Kaitlyn seemed to know what he was talking about. "Which part?" Kaitlyn asked with a slight smile. She was grateful for the diversion, taking the focus off of her. "I can tell you my defenses are down. That probably means that any psychic within a 100 miles can read me like an open book. Sam's probably picking up my very loud broadcast, training or no."

Sam had his own question. "How did you call me? You're not a telepath…"

"No, but you are. Or could be. I just empathically connected to you and then 'called' to you. You were able to pick up the message."

Dean was disconcerted by the implications of what Kaitlyn was saying. Sam had abilities he hadn't tapped into yet and couldn't control. _No_ _wonder it wants Sam so bad…_

"Right…" Dean nodded sarcastically. He was tired, and this rubbed him the wrong way. "Of course... Empathic connection... Is this connection something we're gonna have to worry about for the rest of our lives? 'Cause, lady, I gotta say... We've got enough to worry about without Sam becoming a receiver for the psychic hotline."

"Dean!" Sam barked, surprised by the outburst. Dean's anger, which always seemed to be simmering just below the surface these days, flared at times Sam couldn't anticipate.

"He's right, Sam..." Kaitlyn laid her hand on his chest and nodded understandingly at the older hunter. "I know your brother is your top priority, Dean. And I know this isn't easy for you." She looked down for a moment before looking back up into his eyes, "… better than you think." She smiled wryly, "But to answer your question... No, I don't think you have to worry about the connection being permanent – lack of stress, distance, time... it will not be a problem soon enough."

Dean stared back at her. He recalled the content of the Sam's vision, and it chilled him for an instant. He rubbed his hand awkwardly through his hair, "Oh... I'm sorry... I didn't mean it like that..."

"I know," she nodded, with more understanding than Dean thought he deserved at the moment.

"We can still stop that from happening," Sam said hopefully. "We saved Rosie. We changed the outcome of that vision…" Sam insisted. No one in the room was really sure if that was true. And one vision changed out of - how many, now? – nine? – did not inspire confidence.

"Look... There isn't much we can do for you if this guy's attacking you from the inside. But we can stay here and watch over you." Dean offered softly.

Kaitlyn shook her head no. "Thanks, though... Really. You're going to be driving; you need to sleep. You too, Sam. Me... I can usually sleep anywhere, and I've got the whole backseat." She smiled tightly. Under her breath she added, "If I sleep…" She moved from her corner, urging Sam to do the same, and ushered them both toward the door.

"If you need anything..." Sam started.

"I'll call," she nodded.

Satisfied that their connection seemed to be temporary or, at least, the result of Kaitlyn's highly stressful situation, Dean allowed himself to be herded to the door. They'd sort the rest out later. "Okay…well, I'm going back to bed. You comin', Sam?"

"Yeah, in a minute." Sam turned to Kaitlyn. "Are you going to be okay?"

"One way or another." Kaitlyn attempted to give Sam a reassuring smile. She reached out and held onto his arm for a minute. "Thanks, Sam, for coming."

"I didn't do anything."

"You came. That counts for something." Sam nodded in appreciation for her attempt to make him feel better. _How ironic_.

When Sam left the room, Kaitlyn grabbed the blanket and pillow from the bed and sat herself on the floor in the corner of the room. The blanket wrapped around her, aided by the solidness of the adjoining walls, allowed Kaitlyn the illusion of safety and being embraced. She settled in, hoping she could weather the rest of the night's terrors. She knew there would be a few more hours before they hit the road. She didn't know what the road trip would bring, but it had to be better than this – sitting and waiting. At least they'd be moving.

It was still dark when they hit the road. None of them had been able to sleep, so they decided to put the time to good use.

-------

As the second straight day of driving wore on, the tension in the car was palpable. The energy buzzing in the air seemed to be feeding on the passengers in the car rather than helping them. An adrenaline rush can only be maintained for so long. Dean kept the stereo up to help him concentrate and focus on the long drive. He would have liked the volume level even higher, but Sam got agitated when he couldn't hear Kaitlyn. Dean got agitated when he could. The drive was punctuated by Kaitlyn occasionally making startled sounds which degraded to whimpers. The urgent need to arrive at their destination was reaching critical levels, and they had only just gotten on the western end of the Pennsylvania turnpike, meaning they had about five more hours of travel until they reached their destination.

Kaitlyn was pressed hard in the corner of the backseat, leaning against the door, with her knees curled up to her chest. She alternated staring out the window and closing her eyes. Neither really helped. When she stared out the window, she saw reflections in the glass staring back at her or images of the torments Thomas had heaped upon his victims. He had added visions of her own death to his portfolio. When she closed her eyes, memories washed over her, or she would hear him whisper to her. She occasionally felt him touch her, sending shivers through her body. She was reaching a breaking point. All the while, in the background, was the white-noise of screaming that she couldn't shut out. When she reached a desensitization point with the noise, Thomas would make everything go quiet for a time, only to reintroduce the sound. The more he did this, the harder it was to shut out the noise.

She was in an eyes-closed phase when things suddenly got quiet, so quiet that all noise seemed to be blocked out. Kaitlyn couldn't even hear the noise of the stereo. She knew this meant trouble. She lifted her head from her knees and looked around. On the other side of the back seat, she saw the rotting corpse of her husband. She let out a disgusted groan as he continued to rot, at an unnatural speed, right before her eyes. She closed her eyes again and hid her face in her knees. But the total silence that blanketed her was broken by drying, curling sounds – sounds like those you would hear in a movie to portray decay. While the sounds may not occur in real life, they conjured up images in her head that sickened her without even having to actually see the corpse next to her.

She heard a small thud and looked over, knowing even as she did that she wouldn't like what she saw. One of the corpse's hands had fallen off and landed on the floor. The eyeless head, which by this time had little skin left on in, turned with a crackling and snapping tissue and tendons and smiled – a lipless, grotesque smile. _ I am not going to puke. Dean would kill me. Just don't look. _She was about to turn away when she noticed the stomach start to expand. Unable to keep from looking, she braced herself. She could only whimper, but she lifted her hand and started tapping the seat in front of her to get the attention of the hunters. She had a feeling she was going to need to make a quick exit from the car.

Sam noticed the tapping and turned to see the look of mingled fear and disgust on Kaitlyn's face. He had no idea what she was seeing, but he knew it was bad. "Dean," Sam said without taking his eyes off Kaitlyn. "Dean! Pull over…now!"

Kaitlyn watched the stomach continue to expand, and with a sudden tearing sound, the stomach burst and out flooded crawling bugs of the kinds you only see under rocks. Centipedes, cockroaches, various beetles, and other bugs streamed out of the opening in the stomach. More escaped through other orifices and wounds on the man's body. Kaitlyn screamed and immediately fumbled to release her seatbelt. She had always had a dislike for bugs, but bugs en-mass terrified her. They were the stuff of nightmares for her. Released from the seatbelt, she was practically climbing the interior of the vehicle trying to put as much distance between herself and the insects pouring out like liquid toward her. In a blind panic, she opened the car door to escape.

The car had slowed considerably and was already on the side of the road when Kaitlyn fell to the ground. Another thirty seconds and Dean was standing next to Sam, watching. They exchanged worried glances. She had rolled when she fell out of the car, and seemed uninjured. She was on her knees in the fetal position and it was obvious she was shaking. Sam started to approach her, when he heard a noise. He looked at Dean. Dean shook his head, not knowing what was going on any more than he did. The sound that came from Kaitlyn was somewhere between sobbing and laughter – or maybe a combination of the two. She was hysterical.

Sam started to approach her again, but he stopped short when she uncurled and screamed. It was the sound of torment, frustration, and suffering. She dropped her head and breathed hard. Slowly, she shifted to her hands and knees and then stood. Kaitlyn walked in circles at the side of the road. It took Sam a moment to realize she was talking to herself.

Sam looked at Dean again, who shrugged and pointed to his head, his finger making a circle – the universal "crazy" sign. Sam frowned and slowly drew closer to Kaitlyn, not wanting to spook her and cause her to bolt.

"… 'For God has not given us a Spirit of fear, but of power and love and discipline.' 'There is no fear in the perfect love of God, for love drives out fear.' 'For God has not given us a Spirit of fear…'" Kaitlyn was repeating these words like a mantra, drawing strength from her faith, but lost in her own world.

"Kaitlyn?" Sam cautiously called out to her, trying to reach her, bring her back, or get some kind of sign she was still with them.

After a few more awkward seconds, she halted her pacing and stopped speaking. She looked directly at Sam. He was startled by the determination he read in her tear-filled gaze. "I will not fall. I will not be overcome." She cocked her head to the side. "Do you hear me?" she said a little louder. The question was addressed to Thomas. "Your games end with me." She returned her attention to the men before her and said, "If I am going to die, I'm at least going to go out standing." She heard Thomas laugh, but this time, instead of cringing, she clenched her fists, strode purposefully back to the car, and got in the back seat.

She continued to be plagued by visions and memories, sounds and feelings, but they were getting old, and she would not allow herself to be overcome with fear – ever again.

As Dean watched Kaitlyn go back to the car, he remembered a quote their dad had made them learn when they were young and recited, "'Courage is not the absence of fear. It is acting in spite of it.'" Sam nodded his understanding. She was not out of the woods yet, but she might just find her way. And both brothers silently agreed that they would do what they could to help lead her home.

-----

Though he had honestly been surprised by the sudden shift in her emotions from pure terror to anger, tinted, yet fueled, by fear, Thomas merely laughed. Whatever hope she found in her reserves of strength didn't matter to him, and it wouldn't last long. He'd seen her end through her own eyes, thanks to Sam's vision. She just proved herself to be more fun than he thought. He would miss her when she was gone.

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tbc

Thanks again for the reviews, especially in light of the alerts being down. Thanks so much for riding with me. And thanks for all the help to my trio of editors, cheerleaders, and friends. You guys rock!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimers - Usual.

A/N - Sorry this was a late posting. Holidays were a little too good and I got a little too lazy. But I should be back on track now.

Chapter 11

They arrived at Kaitlyn's studio around mid-day. It was in the historic side of town, complete with streetlights that looked like lanterns, brick sidewalks, and a cobblestone main street. Both sides of the street were lined with renovated historic buildings and storefronts. It was like a Thomas Kinkaid painting. Much to Kaitlyn's amusement, Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Ah… Home sweet home," Kaitlyn said. The bell above the gallery door gave a familiar tinkling welcome as Kaitlyn walked in.

"Kait!" came a cheery female voice from the back of the studio. A short woman, dressed in a free-flowing shirt and skirt, and wearing dangling earrings that tinkled as she moved, closed the distance to Kaitlyn quickly and gave her a hug. "And who, may I ask…?"

"Jean, this is Sam and Dean. They're friends of mine. They'll be staying in town for a couple of days. They're helping me out with a … project."

"Oh!" said the woman in a suggestive tone as she openly ogled them. "You've started working with models." She said with a lusty chuckle.

Sam fidgeted under the woman's studying gaze. He wondered if he was still wearing clothes or if she'd already started painting him mentally without them.

Dean, on the other hand, was glad for his brother's height, for once, as he tried to hide from this woman, using his brother's superior size to block him from view. Elderly, lusty women were a type of creature Dean had never gotten comfortable with and avoided when at all possible.

Kaitlyn, who was surprised that the boys "feared" anything, couldn't help but laugh, try as she might to hold it in. "No, Jean. Not that kind of work. They're helping me on a personal project."

"Oh. Shame," Jean said, turning away from the men and back to Kaitlyn. "Well, everything ran smoothly. A couple of paintings sold. A new artist, one from the local college, asked if he could show his work here. I wrote down his number…"

"Fine. Listen, I'm still in the middle of something. Could you stay on for the next couple of days?"

Jean glanced back at the boys and smiled a mischievous smile. "Sure. I can stay around."

Kaitlyn chuckled and shook her head. "Thanks a lot, Jean. Come on, guys."

Dean and Sam followed Kaitlyn down a hall at the back of the store. There were two smaller rooms on either side of the hall. One had "Studio" painted in delicate calligraphy, while on the other was painted the word "Private." As Dean walked by, he noticed that the "Private" door was slightly ajar and he glanced in. He was brought up short by the first picture that he saw. It was a wendigo. It was not a typical artist's rendering of the type that, once you know what one actually looks like, you know the artist has never seen one. No, this picture was accurate in every detail. Dean couldn't help but be drawn to the little room. He looked around at the pictures making up this private collection. All were created using various mediums that seemed perfectly appropriate to each scene and enhanced the image created rather than distracted from it. He recognized the wendigo while still standing in the hallway. He also noticed other villains that he and Sam had faced-off against in the past year: the shtriga, Bloody Mary, the Hookman, that fugly scarecrow, the creepy little girl with the straight-edge, and even a vampire, which seemed oddly mundane next to the other creatures. He knew Kaitlyn had been connecting with Sam at what she called "highly emotional" moments, but to see the evidence in front of him made him shiver. He knew she couldn't see everything they did at every moment, but he couldn't shake the feeling that their privacy had somehow been violated, though logically he knew it wasn't through any fault of Kaitlyn's or a desire on her part to intrude. He also felt kind of bad for her at having to see the things that most people assume are make-believe. It must have screwed with her mind at first, until she figured out that she was seeing real creatures from someone else's point of view – which, really, seeing images from someone else's mind was just as crazy as thinking the creatures haunting your dreams might be real.

Dean heard a noise behind him and saw the same look of disbelief and shock pass over Sam's face as he looked around. Kaitlyn was watching them both, to see their reactions. As Sam started to make his way around the room, studying each individual picture more closely, Dean noticed that Kaitlyn tried to subtly hide a couple of paintings already half hidden in one corner by shifting an easel and standing in the way. If he hadn't suddenly become nervous about what she might be trying to hide, he would have found her attempt amusing. She was not tall or large, by any means, so to try to block the men's field of vision was a futile effort. Dean looked past her and then sidled up next to her to add to her barricade. Two of the three pictures she was trying to keep from view were among Sam's most painful life experiences: Jessica's death and the time Sam found Dean when he had been electrocuted. He couldn't quite see the third picture. They were difficult for Dean to look at, so he did what came naturally and tried to protect his brother from further pain and reminders, if he could.

When Sam got to where they were standing, he had almost completed the circuit of the room. Kaitlyn tried to distract him. "Why don't we go upstairs and put the bags down? I'll make some food. Well, no, I probably don't have any, but I can order something and we can talk about all of this…" she waved her arm, sweeping the room, "over a bite to eat."

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean must have sounded a little too eager, because Sam's eyes narrowed. He, for once, did not put up a fight and just nodded his head. Dean sighed in relief, and Sam glanced at him. He would have to ask later what that was all about.

As the three of them started for the door, Dean glanced over his shoulder at the narrowly escaped chick-flick moment and stopped cold. His body turned of its own accord, drawn to the third picture Kaitlyn had been trying to hide. It was a picture, from Sam's point of view, of the night at the cabin, forever ago. Demon-possessed John was smiling cruelly as Dean was being bled, the Demon using invisible blades that cut deep into his body and allowed his blood to flow freely. Dean winced and subconsciously put his hand to his chest in remembered pain, not all of it physical.

Sam noticed Dean drift away and turned to see what he was looking at.

"Sam." Kaitlyn whispered his name in warning, but it was too late. He saw what Dean was looking at and then his eyes traveled to the other two pictures. Sorrow and pain rolled off the men in waves, colliding with Kaitlyn with a force that made it necessary for her to hold onto the doorway for support. As Kaitlyn's eyes teared empathically, Dean turned and walked out of the room, his face a stoic mask, but his emotions telegraphing to Kaitlyn with physical force. She looked back at Sam, who had bowed his head as tears escaped down his face.

"I'm sorry, Sam. Truly." Kaitlyn walked up to him and rested her hand on his arm, trying to provide any comfort she could give. She knew instinctively that Dean would not accept such comfort, not from her, so she let him stand in the hall alone, and gave him space and a few minutes.

After a minute, Sam gathered himself together and nodded at Kaitlyn, indicating he was ready to leave. They stepped out in the hallway to see Dean leaning against the wall. His head was down also, and sorrow still rolled off him. When he became aware of them, he looked up and pushed off the wall. He was ready to move on, or at least be distracted, and rebury what had been accidentally laid bare.

They headed up the stairs to Kaitlyn's second floor apartment in silence, each lost in his or her own thoughts. As she walked into the apartment, she suddenly gave a weird sort of wiggle. She looked back at the boys and smiled sheepishly, "I have my phone on vibrate. I've never gotten used to it when it goes off. It… startles me." She pulled her phone out of her pocket and answered it. "Y'ello." She said. "Oh, hey Dan… Uh-huh… Yeah, I know… I know, crazy, I guess…" Kaitlyn gave a slight laugh for Dan's sake, and glanced up at the brothers. "So, where exactly is he?... Oh, I know, I'm just curious now. I'd like to see him… Uh-huh… Great, thanks. And thanks for doing this for me… Okay, you too. Bye." She hung up the phone. "Well, that was Dan. He confirmed what Ash said - that Thomas tried to commit suicide and is in a coma or vegetative state. He gave me the hospital and room number. It's just a town over, not too far…"

Dean was once again grateful for the distraction of the hunt. "Good, let's go," he suggested.

"Food first. Then we go," Sam suggested.

After a brief pause they both said, "Pick it up on the way." The two hunters, both grinning, and their temporary charge headed out the door hoping to put an end to Thomas Wayne's secret reign of terror.

-------

They arrived at the healthcare facility, nestled among rolling hills with just enough trees to offer privacy, but not enough to be considered a forest.

"I think he knows we're coming." Kaitlyn had been growing increasingly wary of the sudden lull in Thomas' attentions.

"Yeah, well, that'd be a first." Dean said, his focus narrowing as he tried to figure out what weapons they could sneak in, and what might work against Thomas. Dean was not going to carry a gun into the facility. Not only would someone likely notice, but the last couple of times he tangled with Sam's playmates, his guns kept getting turned back on him. _See, I can learn from my mistakes_. He settled on going unarmed, save for holy water, his dad's journal (which had its own arsenal of un-carnal weapons) and the knife he always carried.

Sam was relieved to see Dean was not taking any weapons, except the knife he knew Dean always carried. He really didn't know what they hoped to accomplish or how they were going to defeat Thomas.

They walked through the stately doors of the main building and checked in under assumed identities, of course. They asked where Thomas Wayne's room was, saying they were family from out of state, here to pay their respects in case the worst should happen. As they headed away from the sign-in desk, Kaitlyn tapped Sam's arm.

"Sam, I want to show you something." She waited until he gave her his full attention. "I'm going to show you how I found you… at the bar."

"Why?" Dean asked.

"I think he means, 'Why now?'" Sam said, with a slight scowl in Dean's direction.

Dean nodded his agreement. "Can't it wait?"

Memories of things to come rushed into Kaitlyn's mind and a range of emotions flashed through her eyes, but she blinked and it was gone – too quick for the hunters to register what she was thinking about. "This is the perfect opportunity to learn and practice it. It's easier to find your way to a psychic… And it's a skill you may need later."… _when I'm not around._

Sam nodded his consent and readiness for the connection. He felt the now familiar sensation of pressure and then the rush of disconnected memory. Like using sound to visualize your surroundings with radar or echolocation, he used feeling to "see" where people were located in the space around him. Kaitlyn maintained both her psychic and physical connection, but eventually gave the lead over to Sam, trusting him to be able to find the way. Thomas, being a psychic, had a non-radiant energy about him – aura, for lack of a better word. It reminded Sam of the moon and stars which shine to varying degrees, but don't give warmth the way the sun does. Sam noticed Thomas' shine beyond the walls and doors that would have impeded his physical sense of sight. There were a few other things he noticed, too. He had a very bright shine, while Kaitlyn's was dimmer than both his and Thomas'. Dean didn't shine, not in the same way. Rather, Dean had a glow that emanated from deep within. It felt soft and warm and Sam was pretty sure would have been a fiery, golden light had he been able to "see" it. What struck him even more about Dean's glow was that he really didn't see it in anyone else he looked at. The people around them had another type of energy or aura, one that spoke of vibrancy and life, though to varying degrees. It snapped and popped like static electricity with charges being built by people interacting with each other and giving and taking energy from each other in the process.

Dean watched Sam look around with an expression of boyish wonder. Sam looked at him, and just stared for a minute, making him shift uncomfortably under his brother's gaze. He wanted to ask what Sam was seeing, but thought better of it, not wanting to disrupt his brother's concentration. _I hope that's not x-ray vision you got there, Sammy-boy. If it is, we're going to have to talk, _Dean joked with himself, surprised at his own restraint in not speaking. But Sam seemed to be leading them, now, instead of Kaitlyn, and he didn't want to get them lost.

Sam headed to Thomas' room. Before they stepped through the door, he felt the connection break between himself and Kaitlyn. He gave a slight shake of his head as the "second-sight" lifted and he was left with his normal vision. As Sam was about to enter Thomas' room, he heard Kaitlyn say, "Dean, one second, please."

He and Dean exchanged a questioning glance, then nodded simultaneously their consent. Sam entered the room, while Dean waited outside.

"Um… I just feel the need to say… ya know… in case I don't get the chance later…" Dean started to interrupt, but Kaitlyn held up her hand and continued, "There's a verse in the Bible that says, 'Greater love has no one than this; that he lay down his life for his friend.' Dean," Kaitlyn locked eyes with him to be sure he was listening before she continued, "sometimes, 'laying down your life' means living… and accomplishing what the other person couldn't. You're the hope of your father and the strength of your brother. Whatever that guilt is that you're carrying, and the grief… Don't let yourself be strangled by it. Your brother needs you alive – and living."

Before Dean could respond, Kaitlyn walked into Thomas' room. She had a bad feeling as soon as she entered. She recognized the room, and glanced in Sam's direction. He gave her a sympathetic smile. He had recognized the room from his vision, too. "He knows we're here," she nodded in the direction of Thomas, "and he's happy."

It was at this moment that Sam grunted. His eyes rolled back and his body did an impressive rag-doll impression, even as Dean moved to catch him before he hit the ground, or at least prevent him from hitting anything that would cause him damage. Dean looked up at Kaitlyn, his eyes expressing a mixture of anger and fear for his brother. Once again Sam managed to draw the direct attention of a sinister foe. Truth be told, he also blamed Kaitlyn, as she was the reason they were there.

Kaitlyn looked at Dean, at a loss. She was about to tell him when Thomas' laughter ripped through her head. _He said you'd bring them and you did_. "What?" Kaitlyn asked out loud, confused. She could practically feel Thomas' leering smile as he continued. _You were a treat. Disposing of the Winchester brothers is my rite of passage. I will be a god! _ Thomas laughed again. Kaitlyn felt sick to her stomach as her eyes caught Dean's again. "No!" She whispered. She had not considered before that anyone besides herself would be in danger. She never would have brought the brothers into this if she thought they would get hurt, or worse, die. She had only ever wanted to help them. "I don't know what to do," she confessed.

Dean's eyes bore into hers. He lashed out at her - his closest target. "What do you mean you don't know what to do?"

"I'm not a hunter. I don't know what to do to stop this…to stop him," she pointed at Thomas. Her voice, for the first time, raised to meet Dean's challenge. She already knew this was her fault; she didn't need to hear it from someone else. She also knew that confronting Thomas would mean re-entering his mind. Fear was eating away at her earlier resolve and determination to finish this.

"Why did you want to come here, then? What were you hoping to accomplish?" Dean carefully laid Sam down, and got to his feet. He pulled out his knife with every intention of killing Thomas to end this, once and for all.

"No!" Kaitlyn reached for Dean's arm, which he promptly shrugged off. "You can't just kill Thomas. Just… If Sam is in Thomas' mind, killing Thomas could very likely kill Sam. The fact that they're psychically linked could kill Sam, even if he's not in Thomas' mind." Dean paused to consider what she was saying and lowered his knife. "Besides, if it comes to that, there are less… obvious ways to do it."

Dean took a look around at all of the machines that were keeping Thomas alive. He inwardly berated himself for the lapse in logic. _Yeah, and a window is easier to break than a door. _Returning his heated gaze to Kaitlyn he said, "Well, you got Sam into this, you better figure out a way to get him back, or so help me…" He let the threat trail off.

Kaitlyn stared back at Dean for a moment before dropping her head in defeat. "Alright… Well… I'm going to have to find Sam. Figure out where he is, first. Just… be careful. Thomas intends to kill us."

"Great," Dean said. _I guess I get to stand around and twiddle my thumbs_. "And what am I supposed to do?"

"Wait," she tried to give him a reassuring smile. "And don't trust anyone who comes into the room."

She turned her attention to Sam, touched the top of his head, and dove into the reality that isn't – or perhaps is more so.

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A/N - Thanks again for those who continue to read and review, especially with the alerts down. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that. Thanks also to J.A. Carlton, mom and mei mei. The next couple of chapters have been particularly frustrating to write, and I can't say thanks enough for baring with me, and listening to me complain... and then giving wonderfully helpful suggestions for making the story better. Thanks.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimers - really... How many times do you have to hear it? Would you believe me if I said I did own Supernatural? bah! Bureaucratic red tape...

Chapter 12

The stage was set. The players were in their assigned positions. Thomas just had to conduct the final act. Simple. He was, after all, a god.

Sam was trapped in his own mind. That was where the yellow-eyed demon wanted him. Thomas had learned, from the works of art he created, exactly how to build the mood and environment that would break the young hunter down. And if he "accidentally" went too far and the boy killed himself, well, no matter to him.

Dean was in the hospital room alone, for all intents and purposes, and defenseless. They hadn't brought any weapons with them. He should be easy enough to dispose of. And if Thomas was able to possess Sam's body to carry out the act, well, more fun for him. Physical pain did not satisfy him as much as emotional pain. He figured Sam trying to kill Dean would cause emotional pain for both hunters. He had been short on time for this plan, so he'd take what he could get.

Kaitlyn, too, was right in her proper place. She was spelunking, while trying to find the lighthouse that shone so brightly. Her failure to save the young men, and even witnessing their deaths, would make her primed and ready for the final plans he had for her. He would even make her the centerpiece of his collection. For a while.

And to add to his insane pleasure, the other mortals in the physical world would be stunned and confused, but none the wiser. Yes, like God, he would be unfathomable in his power to control. Life was good, for Thomas, and he allowed himself to laugh at the sheer joy of his victory and ascension.

------

Sam wasn't sure if he had opened his eyes or not. He thought they were open, but the world around him was pitch black. He took stock of his body and noticed that he was handcuffed, sitting in a chair, and somehow, he was immobile beyond the capacity of the handcuffs. There was something hard in front of him; he guessed it was a table. He held his breath and listened as carefully as he could to find out if he was alone or not. He was definitely not alone. He heard a steady breathing rhythm that was broken by a soft chuckle. It was the sound of someone laughing at you, not with you – cruel and low.

"Who's there?" He tried to remember how he had gotten here, but there was nothing. The last thing he remembered was entering Thomas Waynes' room. _Oh crap_! Another chuckle sounded in the dark – a little more drawn out and a louder.

Sam knew his brother wasn't wherever he was. He had always been able to tell when Dean was in a room with him. He figured that, with the life of hunting, instinct and dependence on awareness of one's surroundings, he learned the feel of Dean. Both he and his brother, from the time they were young, would awaken the instant their father, or anyone else, would enter the bedroom, but there was a bond of surety between the brothers that allowed them to remain relaxed when the other entered a room, and their sleep remained undisturbed. That simpatico wasn't broken until Sam had willfully broken it by going to college. They were just re-forging that bond, though it seemed everything in the world was intent on preventing it.

"What do you want, Thomas?"

Thomas outright laughed at this statement. "Just a little entertainment before you go."

"I hate to disappoint you, but I'm really not the funny one, you know. Ask my brother, he'll tell you. I'm boring, library-geekboy. So you might as well just let me go."

"Oh, don't worry. I bet you're far more amusing than you think. Let me show you…"

A small red light, like a red-eye reducer on a camera, lit from somewhere on, what Sam had imagined was, the table in front of him. Being in a pitch black room, it naturally drew the attention of his eyes. Like something out of a science fiction story, a stream of light discharged from… something… on the table - downloading images directly into Sam's head.

Sam saw in molasses-slow motion when Jess was pinned to the ceiling and stared down at him. Her abdomen was slit open, yet only enough blood dripped for Sam to open his eyes and find what was falling on him. It was as if her blood and life were being held to the ceiling long enough for him to find her and watch her die in fear and fire, impotent to do anything but stare in disbelief and shock. _No… Don't make me go through this again…_

In the sudden blackness that filled his vision after the images stopped, Sam heard Thomas' voice. "My, my, Sam. Who knew you had it in you to kill someone?"

"No!... I didn't kill her…" No amount of time and space would make those images any easier to see. Sam's eyes watered in frustration and grief.

"But you knew. You knew ahead of time what was going to happen. And you did nothing. Doesn't turning your back make you just as responsible as if you committed the murder yourself?"

"No! I did. Not. Kill. Her! It was the demon!"

"You say potato, I say pot-ah-to. He was just showing you who you are, Sam."

Sam was stunned into silence for a moment. The red light flashed on the surface in front of him again. He didn't want to look, but it was like watching a train-wreck. He couldn't not look.

Sam watched in horror as he saw himself pinned to a wall, watching the yellow-eyed demon with his father's face. "I have plans for you, Sam. You and all the children like you." He watched as the demon was killing his brother. His heart was torn and breaking as he heard his brother beg. He had tried. He had tried with all his might to make the gun move. To put an end to the quest for vengeance. But he couldn't. And now his brother was begging. Dean had never begged for anything in his life, but he did it twice that night. He had begged his father for help, hoping that his hero would be able to save him. And later, with what little life he had left, he begged Sam not to kill their dad, returning the favor – life for life, love for love. Sam's world had been turned upside down that night.

"You belong to another family, Sam. And the demon takes care of his own… with the same vengeance and ferocious purpose your father had. They're really not all that different are they? They even kind of look the same."

Thomas laughed at his own joke, but Sam could barely breathe. There was a time when Sam had hated his father as much as he hated the Demon. He wasn't even sure who he held more responsible for their crap-heap of a life. Yes, the Demon had stolen a precious piece of their life, but it was their dad who never allowed them to move on, and compounded every injury and emotional scar they received growing up. So Thomas' words cut Sam to the quick. It had been time, maturity, and Jess' death that enabled Sam to see things from their father's perspective. He had even begun to recognize how much he was like his father.

Thomas next reminded Sam of the lengths he had considered going to get revenge. Tears that had formed, but not fallen, started to spill out as Sam saw further evidence of his own corruption. The ever-present, steady-as-rock foundation of his family, that he had come to take for granted, had been shaken and broken. No son should have to hear his father beg him to take his life, however logical it seemed. But his dad had also begged that night, begged for everything to end. Sam had hated him for it. But he also hated himself because, without Dean, he would have done it. He would have killed his own father. His quest for vengeance had nearly cost him his soul.

"It's your destiny." Thomas whispered. It was not awe that muted Thomas' voice, but rather his knowledge of how to manipulate his victims, what tones of voice to use when, for maximum effect. "Stop fighting it, Sam. It will only wear you out. It will only hurt you… and your brother… in the end."

Thomas showed Sam another stream of images. Andy killing Webber. The two incidents where Max and Webber each intended to kill Dean. "If you leave him now… if you choose to stop fighting… at least Dean will have a chance. If you fight, and lose control, Dean might get in the way, and you'll do something you regret… or not." There was a hint of cold apathy in the last words. Sam had at one time thought that if he turned, if he did slide down the slippery slope to the dark side, he could at least count on his brother to take care of him and do what needed to be done. Knowing the power both Max and Webber wielded over his brother, Sam was afraid that Dean might not get the opportunity. Worse was that after River Grove, Sam thought Dean might not fight at all. He might just let Sam kill him. And Sam couldn't live with that.

A voice whispered in the darkness, bringing with it light and something more valuable – hope. "Sam."

------

Kaitlyn sought out Sam. She could feel him and was relieved to find him in his own mind. She grew concerned, however, that she could not see him. He was usually a near-blinding light when she searched for his mind. _Maybe it's because I'm actually in his mind, rather than just trying to find him_, she thought. She stretched out with her sixth sense some more, trying to pick up on something. It was like waiting for you eyes to get accustomed to a dark room. Slowly, she began to feel Sam's emotions, and they were growing stronger. Kaitlyn became alarmed by the emotions she was picking up from him. He was experiencing grief and pain, but it was mixed with guilt, regret, and hate. They were the emotions of memories relived. She had relived enough of her own to recognize the echoes. What worried her most was Thomas' talent for getting people to commit suicide. He knew how to play in the darkness of emotions, those that threaten to drown or strangle their owner. She felt Sam slipping. He was being overwhelmed and he felt unable to fight. Kaitlyn became frustrated at her inability to read minds. How could she counter whatever lies Thomas was telling Sam when she didn't know what they were? She decided she would offer what she could. She said a prayer for Sam and then reached out to him, trying to comfort him with her presence.

"Sam."

-------

_Kaitlyn_. It was just one word, but the voice that carried it brought hope and purpose. Sam's mind started working its way back out of the mire in which it had gotten stuck. Kaitlyn was one of the chosen, and she had not yet given in to the dark. He remembered her words about having a choice, about responsibility. He remembered Dean's promise, that he would always be around to make sure nothing bad happened to him. And Sam saw that he had a responsibility in return. He had to continue to fight the dark for the sake of those who fought for him. Just as he knew Dean was tired and would not remain in battle without him, he found the strength to do the same – to make Dean his reason for continuing.

"Kaitlyn," Sam said aloud and turned his head, as if expecting to see her.

It was in this one word that Thomas noticed the shift in Sam. _Dammit! I had him. I have to get her away from him. Separate the strands of the rope._

"Kaitlyn, how do I get out of here? I can't see anything. And I can't move."

Kaitlyn couldn't help but smile in relief at hearing Sam's voice and watching his light return. "This is your mind, Sam. It is your reality. You can free yourself. Thomas can't…"

"Shut up, wench!" Thomas' angry voice startled Sam and he waited. "You will not interfere anymore!"

Sam heard Kaitlyn grunt, yell no, and then nothing. After a second Sam shook himself from his stupor. If what Kaitlyn said was true, he should be able to find a way to free himself. He concentrated as he had when trying to use telekinesis. He pictured in his head what he wanted to occur and then willed it into reality. At once, his bindings seemed to melt away. He jumped to his feet and ran in the direction of where he last heard Kaitlyn. He needed light. The sun seemed to rise on the horizon. He was standing near the edge of a cliff. He reached out, trying to find Kaitlyn using the technique she had taught him. He decided it would be easier if the scene in his mind was the interior of a building, then it would be closer to his experience of locating Thomas. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again he was in an office building. Trying again to find Kaitlyn, he saw the familiar dim light that he recognized as hers. He could see that she was struggling with Thomas. He reached a door labeled Thomas' office. When he reached out to turn the doorknob, he heard a familiar voice call his name. It both chilled him to his core, and nearly dropped him to his knees.

Except for the fact that Sam had closed his eyes in a childish attempt to hide, he remained frozen with his hand outstretched, grasping the doorknob in a white-knuckled grip. _No, no, no, no. You're not real. Please…_ When Sam refused to turn around, a gentle hand reached for his arm and turned him around. Sam's eyes were still closed, so she reached up and touched his face. "Sam."

When Sam's eyes opened, tears again threatened to spill out as he looked into the angelic face of the woman he would forever love. "Jess," he whispered. Despite himself, he grabbed her and drew her into his embrace.

-------

A/N - Mwahahaha. :) Ok, seriously now. Thanks all who have read and reviewed. And thanks much to J.A. Carlton, mom and mei mei. I know... same old, same old. Fortunately, repetition does not make for lack of truth. In fact, according to the science of the mind, the more you repeat something, the more true it is - whether it's true or not. Ha ha. Oh, sorry. Thank you all for your encouragement and support. And thanks to my special three for helping me tell the story better, and helping to make me a better story-teller.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer - Usual.

A/N - I did not give this chapter my final run-through, so all errors are mine. Thanks.

Chapter 13

Thomas couldn't help but smile at his own brilliance. Sam was currently occupied. Kaitlyn was being detained. That left Dean. When Thomas had taken over Kaitlyn's body, her mind had been trapped in his. He knew that taking over someone else's body when they were "home," so to speak, could hold it's own dangers for him, but he was also sure that Sam was so focused inwardly, he would barely notice if his physical shell was being borrowed for a few minutes.

-------

Dean was grunting and huffing to himself. He felt frustrated, out of his element, and otherwise just plain useless. So he occupied himself with a little manual labor. Well, "little" might not have been the right word. His brother was a veritable giant, and his thin frame and loose clothes belied a surprising musculature. Sam had never been built as solidly as his brother, but he was no lightweight. Dean decided to put Sam and Kaitlyn into chairs, looking like they were resting. That way if somebody did enter the room, it wouldn't look like a scene from _Resident Evil_ with everyone passed out on the floor. There were going to be enough questions from the authorities if this couldn't be handled discretely. He was just trying to limit the difficult ones.

So Dean had tied Kaitlyn's hand to Sam's to keep some kind of body contact. Kaitlyn had not needed a physical connection with Thomas to enter his mind, but she had maintained contact with Sam while working her mojo with him. Dean wasn't going to take any unnecessary risks, not where his brother was concerned. There was a lot of back-and-forth shifting of the bodies to keep them together. He'd finally hoisted Sam into a chair, propped his feet on Thomas' bed and put a blanket on his legs. He'd thought about drawing a mustache and glasses on Sam, but work before play, and he wanted to finish setting the stage first. Kaitlyn was lying on the floor between the wall and Thomas' bed, her arm suspended in mid-air from being tied to Sam's.

Dean stripped off his coat and went to get the second chair from the other side of the room. "Why can't they fall in the chair? Or better yet, why fall at all, why not sit first? But noo, let's just fall to the floor. Like she couldn't have waited another second to sit down. How inconspicuous is that? I can see it now… 'Why are there bodies all over the floor?' 'Well, you see, Doc, Thomas is a bad man who kills people with his mind. So my brother and his friend are out taking a spirit walk to track this guy down and stop him before he kills someone else. No, really. It wasn't me. Don't worry, they're not dead...' Yet! I swear, Sammy…" A noise behind him caught his attention and he spun on the spot.

Dean's mouth fell open for a second in surprise as he saw Sam standing and trying to extricate himself from Kaitlyn. "Wha…? So… What's going on? Where's Kaitlyn?"

Sam finished freeing himself and looked up at Dean. A grin spread on his face. "Everything is going according to plan."

Dean wasn't sure what plan Sam was talking about, and he really didn't like the grin on his brother's face or look in his eyes. "Are you all right, little brother?"

"Fine." Sam said while stepping toward Dean.

Years of training in various forms of hand-to-hand combat, combined with that excellent, and sometimes uncanny, instinct of Dean's, allowing him to block the first punch that Sam threw. "What the h-?" He blocked again. A brief sparring match ensued with a flurry of fists and legs, punching and blocking. Dean could have taken Sam out a lot sooner, but he was trying to do minimal damage to Sam's body. Dean finally got Sam pinned, chest to the wall. "Well, you're definitely not Sam. He fights a hell of a lot better. You must be Thomas."

The laugh that came from Sam's body was creepy and devoid of humor and it was made all the more eerie because Dean could never remember Sam ever making a noise like that. "Good," Thomas said. "Too bad muscle memory only carries so far. I'll just have to use a different tack." And with that, pain shot through Dean's head. It felt like someone was driving a spike through his eye. He cried out and instinctively released Sam, raising his hands to protect his head. He staggered back and then the pain was gone except for a faint throbbing reminder. _No! Not again. First Dad…_ "Sammy?" While lowering his hands and giving his head a little shake, Dean called out to Sam hoping he would be able to hear him. At least he wasn't bleeding to death. And that gave him time.

"He can't hear you." Thomas chuckled again, which sent chills up Dean's spine. "He's otherwise engaged." The laughter grew more maniacal as Thomas amused himself with a private joke.

"What are you doing to him?" _Who knew you could look so creepy, bro_.

"Me? Nothing. He's getting a chance to make up for lost time with his beloved Jess. I'm doing him a favor, you could say." The Joker-esque grin remained plastered on Sam's face, and had it been anyone but his brother, Dean would have likely tried to smack it off.

"Let him go, you son-of-a-bitch." Dean stepped forward fisting his hands in Sam's shirt and slamming him, not too hard, into the wall behind him.

"Hey. Hey!" Thomas' face grew temporarily serious. "Watch the merchandise. You know, this is a nice body." Thomas looked down and favorably examined Sam's hands and arms. "I could grow to like it here. Maybe even make myself a new home."

"Like hell!" Dean growled.

"Oh, don't worry, you won't be around." And with that Thomas reached up and grabbed both sides of Dean's head. Again, pain shot through Dean's body. This time the spike that started in his head sent cold liquid through his entire nervous system and his legs gave out under him. Once he hit the ground, Thomas took the opportunity to kick him in the midsection, once, twice. He went for a third, but Dean managed to roll out of reach of the offending foot.

"Has anyone ever told you…" Dean weakly got to his hands and knees and gasped a little for breath, "that you kick like a girl?"

This comment enraged Thomas and he stepped forward to kick again. Dean blocked the kick with his arm, while sweeping Thomas' other leg out from under him, and he landed hard.

"Sammy!" Dean called. "Come on man. Fight it. Don't make me kick your ass… Please." He whispered the last word. When his father had been possessed, Dean had been unable to take action against him. He knew that, when it came down to it, he wouldn't be able to help Sam, either. This mirrored too closely one of Dean's deepest fears, and it brought out a feeling of desperation in him that he'd seldom ever felt before, and only where Sam was concerned. His mind told him that this was not a demon, and that, if he could just knock Sam unconscious, it would be over. It had worked for Kaitlyn. But his fear was playing against him, strangling his ability to act decisively. _This is just like Ellicott; just pop him one_. Dean got gingerly off the floor and walked to Sam, who was almost standing now.

"No." Thomas put his hand out and looked at Dean, in wide-eyed bewilderment. He would not be bested by this mortal. He didn't even have any power. "No!" He lunged at Dean, again commanding pain to consume Dean's entire body. This time, he did not stop when Dean dropped to the floor. He watched in fascination and growing excitement as Dean squirmed and twitched like a bug pinned by a seven- year-old boy to a piece of cardboard.

"SAM!" Dean cried out, reflexive tears streamed down his face. He had lost all bodily control due to the pain and raw energy coursing through his nervous system. _Well, at least I don't have to pee_. He would not allow himself to pass out. _Where are you, Sam?_ If Sam couldn't help him, then he, too, was in trouble and needed help. Certain things never changed. Sam in danger was the only motivation Dean needed to move mountains and breathe fire. But first, he had to remember how to move his own body and breathe air.

-------

Once Thomas realized that Kaitlyn had given Sam the key to his freedom, it was only a matter of time until she would feel his wrath. And it came swiftly. He grabbed her and the next the she knew, they were traveling the space in-between, from one body to another. She could not fight him here or risk losing her way. When they landed, she was not surprised to be back in Thomas' house, but she was still gripped by fear. Once inside, Thomas actually let her go. She was stunned for a moment and turned to look at him. His smile reminded her forcibly of the Cheshire Cat from _American McGee's Alice_. A shiver ran through her and she knew she was meant to run. She ran half-way down the front hall, still lit in the fluorescent green from her earlier visit, when she heard the soft thuds of the zombie women freeing themselves from their portraits.

There was really nowhere she could hide. She figured Thomas could see in his house as if it was daytime. It was his mind, after all. And even if it was dark, he would no doubt know the house like the back of his hand. However, this idea gave her a faint glimmer of hope. If the house really was lit for Thomas, he might not see her luminous footprints, which might just buy her some time. She ran up the stairs and into the rooms she had already visited. Traveling through the rooms, she found one with a closet and curled up as small as she could in the corner.

While Kaitlyn waited, she stretched out with her mind, trying to read as much as she could of Thomas' state of mind. What she felt confused her. Thomas' emotions seemed to change from moment to moment, as if he was locked in some battle, and whichever way the battle was going, his emotions went with it. He was elated, but also conflicted; frustrated and scared, and then triumphant. He also felt somehow thinned. Kaitlyn searched for his location, like they had at the hospital. This temporarily illuminated everything around her in a white/grey light, and she saw a figure approaching her. But, had she not know she was in Thomas' mind's mind, she would not have recognized the glow, for it was less vibrant than it had been earlier. Kaitlyn wasn't sure what this meant though.

As she knew he would, Thomas found the room in which she was hiding, and he was not alone. When the closet door swung open, Kaitlyn had prepared herself to strike out at him. She was confused when she couldn't see anyone standing in front of her. But then a strong hand grabbed her by the hair and slammed her head into the back of the cabinet, dazing her. He remained invisible as he pulled her out of the closet by her hair. She reached up with both hands and wrapped them around his forearm. She dug in with her nails, trying to get him to release her. Thomas only laughed in response. Then he pushed her head down connecting it with his knee. Fireworks burst in Kaitlyn's eyes and tears streamed from them as blood started to flow from her nose.

He did not give her a chance to recover any footing. Thomas dragged her into the hall. When she tried to swing at him or grab things with her arms, he kicked to the side, catching her in the ribs. At the top of the stairs, the zombie-women were waiting and he threw her at them. She felt herself being consumed by pain and screaming, not sure what was her own and what belonged to the victims. She did not have much time before she would either pass out or lose herself in the flood of memories.

Silence fell around her; that ringing silence you hear when all noise has suddenly ceased. She dared to look around. Her strength was fading and when Thomas pulled her to her feet, she did little to resist him. He pulled her close to him in an almost gentle embrace and whispered in her ear. "You know, I had thought about making you my goddess." He held her up with one arm and with his hand he caressed her. He stroked her hair and then his hand traveled down her body in an intimate fashion he had never earned. Then, suddenly, he reached up and yanked her head back, fingers curled in her hair. Kaitlyn let out a quiet sob. His lips ghosted her neck as he continued to whisper, "But you're tainted and wouldn't be able to appreciate the artistry of the work I do." _Thank goodness for small favors_, she thought to herself. "Instead, I'm going to own you. I'm going to crush you, mold you, and paint you like the piece of clay you are. Don't worry, you may not look like much now, but I'll make you into something worth seeing… First, you have to realize you have no hope. You are all alone and no one is going to save you. See?" Thomas brought her head back up and put his lips to hers. She tried to pull away, but she barely had the strength to stand.

And then images flooded her head. She saw Sam, torn between the woman he loved and the knowledge that he was needed elsewhere. And she saw Dean struggling with an enemy wearing his brother's face. It was a fight he couldn't win, no matter the outcome. He lost himself or he lost his brother; it was a choice he'd already made. She could feel their pain and read their thoughts like she had never been able to before, and she was unprepared for the onslaught. In frustration, she had sometimes wished that she could read more than just emotions; but after this, she would never want that again.

Kaitlyn cried for them. She felt the desperation in their struggles and her own. So with a prayer for herself and the men she was watching being torn apart from the inside, she decided to try to tip the scales and unbalance the fight. She withdrew into herself like coiling a spring, trying both to put up walls of defense to be able to focus better and to draw in enough energy to push through Thomas' mind and reach Sam. She figured she would only have the strength to do this once before her energy was spent and her defenses fell. Closing her eyes, she tried to shut out the surrounding noises, sights, and sensations.

For a moment, Thomas thought Kaitlyn had withered at the sight of the Winchester's in peril. She became limp in his arms and he nearly dropped her. He could feel her mind withdraw, like one of those little pill bugs that you poke and they curl into a ball. Truth be told, he was a little disappointed. But then a sudden burst of energy pushed out from her, knocking him back and he did drop her. He could hear her call out, "Sam… Help... Dean!" He smiled, pleasantly surprised. _Good, she's not done fighting yet. But sorry, little princess, your knight isn't going to make it. _He picked her up and carried her to his very favorite room. He stripped her of her last defenses and then shackled her to the wall.

-------

"Jess." Sam rested his forehead against hers. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, and with his left hand he caressed her face. A tear slipped down his cheek. "I've missed you." Jess encircled Sam in her gentle embrace. He sniffed and looked her in the eyes. "This isn't fair."

"What, Sam? What is it?" Jess looked at him with concern. He had always been a man of secrets, but it had never stopped her from trying to get him to open up.

"I… I can't. I… You're not real, and Kaitlyn…" Sam turned his head toward the door that would lead him to Thomas' mind.

Jess reached up and guided his face back to hers. She kissed him comfortingly. "She'll be fine. She was before. And anyway, who says I'm not real?" She smiled and gave him a playful squeeze around his middle.

"But you're… you…"

"Died? I'm real here, though. You've kept me alive… in here," she put her hand over Sam's heart. "And now, we can be together."

Sam started to pull away from Jess. "But, this isn't the real world. I can't stay here."

Jess gave a small chuckle. "Sam, this is your mind… In your body. Of course you can stay here. You never really leave, now do you?"

"But Dean needs me. You don't know what we've been through lately."

Just then, the office that Sam had used to organize his mind gave a shudder and he knew something was going on outside the comfort of this haven. "What was that?"

"Probably just an earthquake. We do live in California." Jess's tone was light with a hint of amusement at Sam's concern, though her eyes flashed for the briefest second with some other emotion. Fear? Frustration?

Sam really wanted to believe her. _But we're not IN California…_ What he wouldn't give to spend just one more day with her. Part of him wanted to believe in this reality – a reality he could control, one in which Jess would be with him. But he knew. _We're not IN CaliFORnia…_ He reminded himself and in his heart he knew that this was an illusion and there was more going on here than met the eye.

Sam took a step back from Jess this time. "No. I really have to go. If this is real, I can come back. You'll be here waiting for me. Right?" Sam pleaded in the hope that this could possibly be true.

Before Jess could answer, the lights flickered in the office. He looked at Jess questioningly, wondering what could disturb his environment if it wasn't him. He headed toward a window. The best way to see what was going on was to look outside.

Jess reached for his arm. "Sam, please." An echo from the past made his stop in his tracks. Whether by chance or design, those words, and the tone in which they were spoken, were the same ones she had used in their last conversation together.

"I'm just going to look out the window…" Another tremor shook the building. This one was followed by a larger power surge.

The earth shook again and Sam could have sworn he heard Dean whisper, "Please." He glanced at Jess who looked scared. Her fear was palpable - surrounding him.

"Jess, what is it?"

She giggled and said in an embarrassed tone, "I guess I'm not so brave in an earthquake after all."

Another power surge caused the lights in the office to flicker and turn off for a few seconds. And this time he was sure he heard his brother plead his name.

"Dean…"

"Sam, don't." Jessica said, looking slightly angry, in addition to being scared. "Don't leave me. Not again."

"Dean's in trouble. I need to help him." _Please tell me you understand, Jess._

"Please, Sam. You never even talked about your family."

Again, the echo of the past made Sam stop in his tracks. "What?"

"You left them before. And they managed just fine. Stay with me…please." Sam was stung by her words. It was true, he had left his family. And how many hunts had they gone on without him? How often had they been in peril and he hadn't been there? And they had been fine. But Dean had dad then. Now he had no one, not even Laura. Sam couldn't leave him again. Not now. Now that he understood his brother, the sacrifice he'd made letting Sam go. With all that had happened lately, it might just kill him if Sam left again.

He turned his back on her to find a window. Jess's voice call to him again. She sounded heartbroken, and for all his logic, his heart still hurt. "You're going to leave me for him again, aren't you?"

He half turned back to her. "I have to, Jess. He's my brother… and my family," _And he's all I really have left._

When he turned to walk away, Sam heard Jess scream. The sound chilled him to his core. _Don't turn around. Don't turn around._ But for some reason, his body wasn't listening to his head, and when he turned, he had to grab a wall for support. Jess was standing, looking wide-eyed at her hands. They were covered in blood from a slash that had ripped across her stomach. She looked up at Sam in shock and dropped to her knees as her life poured onto the floor. Sam ran to her.

"Oh God …" Sam only hoped He was listening. He took off the jacket he was wearing and made a pillow for her head as he gently lowered her the rest of the way to the floor.

"Sam…" Jess whispered.

"Shhh. Don't talk." He took off his hoody and pressed it to her stomach wound, trying to ebb the flow and give him a few precious last minutes. This wasn't his mind; this was his hell.

"You…k...killed…me…again." Jess pushed the words out in shallow breathes. Sam ducked his head as tears started to flow. He knew – he. knew. – that this wasn't his Jess, but it was killing him all the same. "You…left… I… loved… you…" and she was gone once more.

"NO!" Sam yelled. He stood up and looked down at his blood soaked hands. This was how it should have looked last time. She was right, he had killed her. Maybe I can bring her back. It was an irrational thought born of grief and desperation.

"Sam… Help…Dean!" Kaitlyn's voice reached him from somewhere beyond the office, returning him to the immediate needs of the present. This wasn't real. Thomas had used the memory of Jess and his love for her to keep him bound here. If anything happened to Dean or Kaitlyn, he could add this to his burden of guilt, but for now, he couldn't afford to waste more time. He stood and turned from the body at his feet. Thomas was not going to get a chance to corrupt anyone else's thoughts and memories.

"I'm comin', big brother." And as he walked toward the window, the blood on his hands disappeared, the illusion no longer holding power over the young psychic.

-------

tbc

A/N - Ah... we're finally closing in on the end. Whew. Thanks all for coming with me on this journey and for your many encouraging words to continue. I can't fully express my gratitude. Thanks to all.

And, of course, special thanks to J.A. Carlton, mom and mei mei, to whom I subjected a couple of versions of this chapter and they suffered through like troopers. Curtsy


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer - Usual. Thanks to TETIK and gang for the awesome return last night. Ya'll rock!

Chapter 14

Sam peered out the office window and saw Dean lying on the floor. He was in obvious pain but was trying to get to his feet. To his horror, Sam watched as his own foot kicked out and connected with Dean's face, knocking him back to the ground.

"No! Dean…" Sam realized that the reason Jess' fear had been so palpable was because it was actually Thomas' fear, and Thomas had control of Sam's body. What Thomas felt, Sam felt, to some degree. He had to do something other than watch helplessly as his brother was beat down. He began to appreciate what their dad must have gone through when the Demon possessed him. But Sam was not being held prisoner. He could act.

"Thomas!" Sam called out while turning away from the window.

He heard Thomas' laugh before the man materialized in front of him. "Enjoying the view?" Thomas could feel Sam's anger and frustration, as well as his uncertainty and fear. He was mildly surprised that, even being in Sam's body, that was all he could pick up on. The kid had some natural talent, Thomas had to give him that.

Sam stepped forward and, in a fluid motion, sent a left jab to Thomas' face. Thomas' head snapped back from the impact and he let out a cry of pain. He was surprised that Sam had resorted to physical force, but then remembered that the boy was largely untrained and didn't know the power he had the potential to wield. Still, the punch smarted and he would punish Sam for it. Grinning, Thomas crouched and put his hands out in front of him as if he were grabbing something. And the lights of the office flickered wildly.

Sam's head whipped around to the window and he heard his brother cry out again. At first, he had been confused by Thomas' reaction to the punch, but he quickly realized that his body mirrored what Thomas did. Sam's body had crouched, reached out, and grabbed Dean's head, igniting Dean's nerves with fire.

"Stop it!" He took a stop forward. _Come on, Dean, get up._

"Then keep your hands off… or I'll kill him," Thomas snapped. Anger flashed in his eyes, but he chuckled, "Well, I'm going to do that anyway…"

-------

Dean was getting tired of being used as an electrical conduit. _See, Sammy, there's a reason I hate touchy-feely crap. _He had noticed that right before this latest attack, Thomas' attention shifted. Distraction was one of the things he had been trained to spot in an opponent, and Thomas definitely seemed distracted. He was less aware of Dean and his surroundings, though not enough to forget about him. _Way to go, Sam._ Dean believed that Sam was fighting Thomas and was thus the reason for the distraction. He would not consider any other alternative explanation for the shift in attention.

Dean took advantage of Thomas' inattentiveness. Thomas was still crouched, putting him at eye level as Dean rose from the floor to his knees. Dean hit Sam's face as hard as he thought was necessary to knock him out, but no harder. The awkward position and shift in weight caused Dean to fall forward. He and Sam both went down, with Dean landing on top of his brother. This would have been funny had they been in a different situation. Or drunk… very, very drunk.

"Sorry, kiddo." Dean rolled onto the floor and took a minute to recover himself. _Oh brother. I just got you into the chair. Ah, screw it. _He continued to lie there, next to his brother, regaining his strength, and hoped he had, in fact, helped Sam.

-------

Sam fought a bout of vertigo as he felt his physical body fall to the floor. Thomas had also been affected by the blow. He didn't know how he knew, but Sam could tell that Thomas was no longer tethered to him anymore. Rendering Sam's body unconscious, disconnected Thomas from any hold he had there. He grabbed Thomas and pushed him to the door between his mind and Thomas'.

Sam had just opened the door between their worlds, when Thomas struggled harder than ever to stay put. He had to regain control of the situation. He actually began to fear what the demon might do if he failed. He had not even considered the possibility of failure. He'd never before dealt with multiple minds fighting him at the same time, and only began to realize he might have overestimated his own strength and power. He struck out again, trying to use pain to loosen Sam's grip on him. Sam, however, reacted unexpectedly.

Sam felt Thomas' struggles increase as they approached the door. He felt Thomas reach out with his mind, probably to attack, but he was getting accustomed to these new sensations; he'd always been a quick study. Sam put as much concentration as he could into building a wall to block Thomas. Under different circumstances, he would have chuckled to himself as he felt Thomas bounce when he hit the wall. Growing in his understanding of how this psychic stuff seemed to work, Sam pushed back, using the wall to plow Thomas out of his mind. Thomas fought to find a way around or through the wall, but every time he touched it, his hand burned from the contact.

Sam herded Thomas the rest of the way out of his mind, and the door between their worlds closed. Sam stared at the door for a moment before opening it again. When he reached the threshold between his mind and Thomas', he held no illusions; Thomas would be a much more difficult adversary in his own mind than in Sam's, but Kaitlyn was being held prisoner there, and Sam was the only one who could help.

-------

_This isn't possible_, Thomas thought. _He's wild and uncontrolled, he should be no match for my experience and power_. He was beginning to feel afraid, desperate even.

Thomas had noticed, in the past, that the human body acted as a sort of battery or power supply for maintaining life. This seemed an obvious discovery, for it's the reason people are told to eat right and maintain a healthy body. However, each person's body, mind and soul are tuned to themselves, meaning each individual is most efficient for himself. Thomas found that, when he attempted control over someone else's body, the energy level of that person's physical body as well as his own psychic, mental energy drained at a much quicker rate than normal. His energy had been draining from the moment he took over Sam's body. When Dean had knocked him out, he experienced a further power-drain from being suddenly disconnected from the battery that was Sam's body. Continued struggles to keep his foothold in Sam's mind, drained him further still. Thomas did not know how low his power supply actually was until he got back to his own failing power supply.

When he was so rudely ejected from Sam, back into his own mind, he quickly tried to set up blocks and barriers to keep Sam out and Kaitlyn in.

-------

Kaitlyn's head felt like a lead weight. She tried to lift it and groaned, experiencing a rhythmic throbbing for her effort. She tried to lift her hand to her head and realized it was shackled. She could hear the chains clatter against the stone surface of the wall. This realization caused a new wave of fear and adrenaline to course through her and brought her fully awake. Thomas was standing not far away, watching her. Their eyes locked and he smiled his malevolent smile, though he remained where he was. After a moment of staring, Kaitlyn tore her eyes away and tried to scan her surroundings. It was still pitch black. There were two candelabras not far from her, but the light they gave off was oddly muted and didn't travel very far. In fact, they did so little to provide light that their stands remained dark and they appeared to be hovering balls of light.

Her arms were shackled just too high for her to sit on the ground, so she tried to prop herself on her feet. This became tiring, quickly, due to her earlier trauma. She would either have to hang from her arms or stand. She chose to stand.

Thomas reached out and pushed a button in front of him. The shackles were released and fell from her wrists. "Run," Thomas said simply.

Kaitlyn stared at him for a minute, surprised and a little confused. "Um… no," she decided, after the raging success of her last attempt to run, that she would not do so again. She was too tired to play his stupid little games. Besides, with the way her head was throbbing, she wasn't sure if she could run.

"Fine," Thomas seemed nonplussed by her decision to be defiant. In fact, his grin indicated that he would enjoy himself, whatever she did.

As he approached her, she caught the dim light from the candles reflect off a long thin edge extending from his hand. He was armed with a knife. Kaitlyn backed up to the wall behind her and scanned the room for a means of escape. Thomas' hands were down by his side, leaving his body open. Kaitlyn decided that now might be a good time to use the few self-defense moves she had learned from her husband. She struck out with both hands simultaneously. The left hand found its mark at Thomas' groin and her right hand hit his throat, effectively dropping Thomas to the floor. It had the added benefit of causing him to drop his knife with a clatter. He made a strangled groaning sound and rolled onto his side. Taking only a split second to decide what to do, Kaitlyn grabbed the knife that was on the floor at Thomas' back and ran to the other side of the room. This was the first time that she noticed she could actually see some of her surroundings. It was still very dark, but there was enough light from the candles to leave the slightest reflection on what she hoped was a doorknob.

She had been right, and as she ran through the door, she found herself in the lit hallway of what appeared to be a hospital. She stopped short, confused. She turned around and saw that the door through which she had come, was now nothing but a wall. There were so many things not-right with this scenario. She shouldn't be able to see anything in Thomas' mind. And why would he have a hospital corridor in his house? _He wants me to see this. So… It looks like I'm running after all._

There were a handful of doors on the corridor, all of them locked. The last door she came to had one of those long, narrow, glass windows above the door handle. She looked through the window and was surprised to see Thomas' room at the hospital facility. It took her a second to register what she was watching. She watched as Sam and Dean fought each other. Occasionally, Sam would touch Dean and cause him excruciating pain. She figured it was Thomas controlling Sam's body, and that he was using the same pain-induction on Dean that he had used on her. There was one final time when Thomas, in Sam's body, caused Dean enough pain that he dropped to the floor. Thomas didn't release his hold, however, and she could see Dean twitch and jar like he was being electrocuted.

"No!" She tried to open the door, but it was locked, so she banged on the door, hoping to get the attention of the occupants inside. "No! Stop it!" She yelled.

She watched in horror as Thomas finally let go. Dean had apparently passed out. Thomas took the opportunity to grab the knife, the only weapon Dean had brought into the hospital. Although she yelled and screamed, she could do nothing to prevent what happened next. Thomas brought the knife up and slit Dean's throat.

Kaitlyn's breath caught. Thomas looked up at her through Sam's eyes and smiled. She took a step back from the door, promptly dropped on all fours and threw up, then collapsed onto her side.

Wiping her mouth, she rolled over onto her back and sobbed. This was all her fault. If she hadn't been so ready to join the fight, but so unprepared for what might happen if she did, the young hunters would never have gotten involved in this. Now, Dean was dead. How could she face Sam?

She didn't know how much time had passed, but she knew that she had to find a way to get to Sam. He at least deserved to know the truth. She could mourn for Dean later, though she didn't feel she deserved to be able to. She got up from the floor and looked around. The hallway had changed. It was still the hospital corridor, but now there was only one door at the end of the hall. All other doors had vanished.

She walked through the door and found herself in an office building. Cubical walls lined both sides of the aisle. At the end of the hall there was a glass-enclosed office. She could see Sam inside, engaged in conversation with an attractive young blonde she recognized as Jess. Their body language became more animated as the conversation continued, and finally Sam turned away from the girl. Kaitlyn heard the scream and saw the blood start to flow from Jess' midsection.

"It's not real, Sam." She spoke softly, knowing that Sam wouldn't be able to hear her even if she yelled. She watched as Sam ran back and held Jess as she died. Tears streamed down Kaitlyn's face as she watched Sam backed away from the body and went toward the window. Despite what he had just experienced, he seemed transfixed by whatever was the view outside the window.

Curious, Kaitlyn walked to a window in her part of the building that shared a view with the office. Sam was watching what Kaitlyn had seen previously… Dean's death. Her head snapped around to watch Sam. She saw him bang on the window, much like she had done. She watched him go from angry and frustrated to terrified and then stunned.

Tears were just beginning to fall from his eyes, when Kaitlyn noticed a dark, smokey shape take form. The yellow-eyed demon appeared to Sam and began to talk with him. At first, Sam argued with it. He even threw himself at it, but it was like trying to fight smoke. Kaitlyn watched as Sam got that look of intense concentration. A pencil from the desk behind The Demon flew at it and it laughed, unfazed by the meager display. In turn, it slammed Sam into the wall, hard enough to shake the glass of the office. It pointed out the window to his brother. Although Kaitlyn couldn't hear what was being said, she watched with growing anxiety as Sam began to listen. His sorrow was consuming him and it gave the demon an "in." He closed his eyes and tears fell. The longer it spoke to Sam, the softer its features became.

"No, Sam, don't listen!" Kaitlyn took a few steps closer to the glass office. "Sam, please." She pleaded. She tried to reach him mentally as she had done before. For a second she thought it worked. She felt the familiar connection. But Sam opened his eyes and glanced her way. A wall slammed into place between them. He'd known she was there and he blocked her out. Maybe he blamed her for Dean's death. She did.

Kaitlyn found herself once again with her hands pressed against glass separating her from someone she cared about, unable to do anything. Sam stopped fighting; the defiance melted from his features. She watched as he continued to offer up half-hearted arguments that the demon brushed aside with its own soothing words. Her stomach dropped as she watched Sam give a final small nod of acceptance. The Demon smiled and lowered Sam to his feet. It wrapped its arm around its prize in a pseudo-compassionate gesture, and led him through a door on the other side of the office. Kaitlyn screamed in frustration. She felt angry and lost.

Emptiness settled around her. Hopelessness began to consume her. She had been responsible for Dean's death. She had watched helplessly, and perhaps even had a hand in the fall of another of the chosen. And she still had no means of escape.

She was not at all surprised when she tried the door to the office and found it was now open. She moved across the room, toward the door through which Sam and the demon had gone, as if she thought she might be able to catch up with them. But the hall on the other side was dark and the walls were made of stone. They were damp and mildewed and the air smelled stale. Once again the door behind her closed and became part of the stone walls.

She found she was in a maze. Her spirits sank. She retraced her steps three times, each time finding herself somewhere new, before she realized that this maze was shifting around her. She knew she really had no hope of getting out if Thomas didn't want her to.

Exhaustion pulled at her and each step she took came only with great effort. She tried to rest, tried to sit. But each time she slid down a wall, ready to give up, something would happen. One time she sat down and the holes in the mortar around her burst with insects and creepy-crawlies. With a scream, she jumped to her feet, wiped frantically at any bug that had touched her skin, and ran down another corridor. Another time, she rested against a wall and quickly heard lumbering footsteps coming toward her. Snarling and growling reached her ears and she decided she didn't even want to know what it was.

Down another corridor, shadows from the walls reached out and tried to grab her. Had she not been so terrified and exhausted, this would have been one of the coolest haunted houses ever. She finally reached what seemed to be the end. Part of her didn't even want to reach for the door. She knew that Thomas had let her get this far and she didn't want to know what he had waiting on the other side of the door. As she stood, contemplating her dilemma, the air stirred around her. She heard a shuffling noise behind her. When she turned to look, her breath was stolen away. The horrible zombie-women from Thomas' paintings had not been nearly as frightening as they were now, in full color. All of the reddish-brown from half-dried blood, each purple, red and blue bruise, the off-color flesh tone of a body no longer pink with life, the gore – it all added realism and horror to heighten her fear. She had thought she was afraid of them before, but that was nothing to the fear she felt now and that made the decision for her to go through the door.

Unexpectedly, the floor dropped out from under her as she passed through the door. She fell hard after a ten-foot drop. Pain erupted in her side. She smiled to herself as she realized what had happened. She had completely forgotten about the knife she held in her right hand. Well, it was no longer in her right hand. It was now piercing her left side. She lay for a minute in the darkness. The room was cavernous and hollow. It was also very dark, and part of her welcomed this. She was nearing the end of her struggles. She could feel it. Her energy was spent, her blood spilt; she felt cold and numb and nothing more. At least she wouldn't have to see any more. Tears of regret started to fall, each sob sending pain shooting through her side, though it lessened as time went on.

She began to pray. She felt she needed absolution for getting the young men involved and then for losing both of them. She remembered her husband and that, in a way, his death had been because of her as well. A strange thing happened. She believed that if you ask for forgiveness, you receive it. And her load lifted slightly. She was then reminded that, though she might die in the dark, she was not really alone.

_My enemies, do not gloat over me! Though I have fallen, I will get up. Though I sit in darkness, the Lord will be my light_. She smiled to herself as she never imagined that verse would ever be so literal for her. She repeated the verse to herself and started giggling. She was vaguely aware that she was probably in shock, but why die crying when you can die laughing.

-------

Sam kicked in the door between his and Thomas' mind, forcing entry and, unknowingly, weakening Thomas a little more with each assault. He found himself in the entryway that Kaitlyn had described from her time there. Only, for Sam, it was fully lit. The house had a disused and rundown feel and appearance. The rug was threadbare, wallpaper was pealing in places, and dust and cobwebs clung to nearly every surface. Sam had an ever-growing feeling of urgency to find Kaitlyn. He couldn't explain why, but it seemed to grow exponentially the further in to Thomas' house he got. He also couldn't figure out where Thomas was. He seemed to be ignoring Sam's presence, and this was disconcerting. Was Thomas so involved with Kaitlyn that he didn't notice Sam, or did he just not care?

Sam decided, for the sake of time, that he would try to find Kaitlyn her way. He stood still, closed his eyes and concentrated. He stretched out his mind and opened his eyes, searching for some sign of the light she gave off. He only saw one lit person in an upstairs, corner room. This didn't bode well, but he would track down the only lead he had. He ran up the stairs three at a time and jogged to the room.

The door was locked, so Sam slammed his body into the door. When it didn't give, he stepped back and kicked at the door. He heard the wood frame groan and crack. As he prepared for a second kick, he heard plopping noises and looked over the banister to the front hall. He watched as, just as Kaitlyn had described, the zombie-women dropped from their frames to the floor. Inspiration struck and he ran back down the stairs. On his way he picked up a long, old-fashioned candleholder that he planned on using as a bat.

The first woman reached him and he swung. Dean would have been proud. The candlestick connected with her head and there was a sick, wet, squelching sound. The force of the blow swung her away from him, but she stayed on her feet. He ducked, dodged and hit his way through to the portraits. He set aside the candlestick as he reached the first picture. He ripped it from it's place and smashed it against the wall, shattering it. The woman from that portrait shrieked and dissolved into a puddle on the floor. Just like Bloody Mary. This aggravated the women, raising the level of their groaning and shuffling. He moved from picture to picture, grabbing them off the wall and then breaking them. One frame he had to use defensively as the women became more enraged the fewer of them there were. He hit a woman with the frame, then brought the picture down over her head, which broke the picture and reducing her to a puddle. When the last of the pictures was destroyed, the whole house around Sam groaned and creaked in protest. He heard Thomas shout in frustration and pain. But still Thomas did not make an appearance or try to stop him.

Sam headed back up the stairs to the corner room and proceeded to kick in the door. This time, the door gave way and flew open. Sam stared in surprise as he saw a small, cowering man looking back at him. Thomas really didn't look much different here than he did in the hospital room. It was like pulling the curtain back and seeing the Wizard for the first time. All awe and fear left Sam and he almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.

"Where's Kaitlyn?" he demanded.

"No…no where."

Sam looked up and saw the wall was lined with monitors. Each monitor showed a different part of the maze through which Kaitlyn had traveled. One monitor was completely dark.

"There." Sam said pointing. "Is she there?"

"It's too late." Thomas simpered. "I couldn't even get her to commit suicide." He said with tears in his eyes. "I was supposed to become a god," he whispered to himself. "I failed. How could I fail?... He lifted his favor." Thomas' eyes narrowed as he glanced up at Sam, who, as he listened to the man's monologue, was forcibly reminded of Gollum. "He took my power because of him. I can still hurt him, though." Then his eyes flashed with malevolence and he smiled. He spoke to Sam this time. "She's still going to die."

Sam stepped forward and grabbed the frail creature before him, slamming him into the wall. Unlike his brother earlier, he did not hold back. "If she dies, she won't be the only one." He stared at Thomas, letting the words sink in. "Where is she?"

"There… There's a door, to the left of the stairs. Downstairs. It will take you to her." Thomas was shaking with fear.

"Fine. You can lead the way." And Sam swung Thomas around and pushed him toward the door.

Thomas led Sam down the stairs, through the door, down a small sloping hallway to another solid looking metal door. He pushed the door open and gestured for Sam to go through. But Sam wasn't stupid enough to go through alone, and shoved Thomas ahead of him.

"Are there lights?" Sam asked.

"Of course." Thomas lit the torches around the room without even moving. Toward one side of a dome-shaped room, Kaitlyn lay on the floor.

Sam ran over to her and quickly appraised her condition. He saw the knife in her left side, and a bruised and rapidly swelling wrist. Thomas had been right, she was dying. "Hey there," he whispered with a gentle smile.

Kaitlyn opened her eyes and looked up at him. She frowned for a minute, but then she smiled. "He lied." Her voice was quiet and slightly slurred.

Sam didn't know what she was talking about, but they didn't have time to chat. "We've got to get you out of here."

Kaitlyn shook her head. "Can't. Too tired."

"I'll carry you. You'll be fine."

She smiled appreciatively. Reaching up to touch Sam's face, she thought, _We both know how this ends already_.

Sam's head dropped and he closed his eyes. "No." Opening his eyes, he spoke with more conviction. "No. Listen to me." _You said one of us can heal others. Show me. Show me how_.

Kaitlyn considered this for a moment. She honestly didn't know if she had the energy to do it. Sam seemed to know what she was thinking because he said, "Just show me. I'll do all the work."

She nodded.

"We'll have to get this knife out first." Again Kaitlyn nodded and grabbed a fist full of Sam's shirt. When Sam pulled the knife out, Kaitlyn cried out and a shiver ran through her body. She was on the verge of passing out, but Sam pressed down on the knife wound. Another cry escaped her, but it also woke her back up.

"Ok." Sam moved his hand to the side of her head and, for the first time on his own, he forged the deeper connection needed for the exchange of information. She gave him what he needed to do what he had to do, and she started to heal. She could feel the pain lessen and her skin tighten as the edges of the wound closed on themselves, healing the skin.

Kaitlyn glanced up and saw that Thomas was hovering a little too close. "Sam."

Sam looked at Kaitlyn's face, followed her gaze and managed to dodged just as Thomas' hand swooped down in his direction. Sam swept Thomas' feet out from under him and he landed with a thump on the ground. When he didn't move, Sam rolled him over onto his back. Thomas had grabbed the knife while Sam was attending Kaitlyn, intending to kill him. Instead, he impaled himself.

A slow rumbling sound started to grow. Sam looked around and then back at Kaitlyn. She nodded. "We have to leave. His house will crumble now that he's dead."

Sam helped Kaitlyn to her feet and they ran. Debris started falling around them and they had to dodge and duck as they ran toward the door. Kaitlyn tripped several times. Her body felt like lead and her mind was swimming. Too much adrenaline had passed through her body too often in the last couple of days. There just wasn't enough left to keep pushing her forward. Somehow she made it to the entryway. The door was in sight and open, they just had to get there.

Another rumble made them pause and Kaitlyn teetered. Sam crossed the threshold to his mind and turned around. To his surprise, the door between the minds slammed shut. "No!"

He reached for the door and tried to pull it open. Kaitlyn was trying from her side as well. She must have heard something behind her, because he saw her turn. When she looked back at Sam, he saw tears in her eyes. She stepped away from the door and shook her head, "no".

Sam continued to struggle with the door, and tried kicking it in. When he looked back at Kaitlyn, she put her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and gave a slight wave to Sam. Then she pushed with both hands and Sam flew backward away from the door. He hit his head on the ground and everything went dark.

When Sam opened his eyes, he was back in Thomas' hospital room. He shook his head to clear it some.

"Nothing…come on!" Breathe. "Don't do this." Breathe. "Sam!?"

_Kaitlyn_… Sam stood up and went over to where he knew Dean would be. "Yeah," he whispered. It was enough to let Dean know he was there. _Come on…Come on_!

Sam squeezed his way, as best he could, into the small area between the wall, bed and Kaitlyn's head. He didn't want to get in the way of what Dean was doing. He could only hope that this would work. He tentatively reached out, combing his fingers through her hair, then resting his hand on the top of her head. He closed his eyes and searched for her, perhaps for the last time. His eyes didn't need to be open because she'd either be in her own body or no where at all. At first, he saw nothing; then slowly a light began to grow, coming from some distance. He smiled and let out the breath he'd been holding. Then her body tensed and she coughed and dry heaved.

Dean rolled her to her side. He looked up at Sam, relief clear in his green eyes. They all breathed a sigh together.

All at once a cacophony of noise broke out around them. Alarms from the various machines blared their warnings, and nurses, attendants and doctors rushed into Thomas' room. Several of the nurses cast curious glances at the trio of visitors. When the first nurse arrived at the room, the men were pulling Kaitlyn off the floor. Even as they were ushered out of the room to give the staff room to work, she looked on the verge of collapse. Several staff members chalked up her disorientation to the long road trip and the stress of losing a family member. Whispers of "poor girl" or "they must have been close" could be heard passing from person to person.

Within five minutes of the start of the activity, it all stopped. The machines were shut off. Thomas was declared dead.

-----

tbc

A/N - Thanks to all who have journeyed with me through this story - to those who've reviewed, and those who haven't. Thanks to mom for your wonderful editing and cheerleading ability. Special thanks to J.A. Carlton. Yeah, I know, I always thank you, but special thanks for this chapter. You really helped me, allowing me to use you as a sounding board, as well as inspiring new ideas and helping me visualize and cement the ones I had. You really helped get this chapter up and running. Much thanks to you.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer - Usual. I don't own anything related to SN.

A/N Well, here we are at the final chapter. Thanks to all who have read and enjoyed.

Chapter 15

Kaitlyn woke with a start. She felt tired and disoriented. Her confusion only grew when she looked around and discovered she was in a hospital room.

"Oh good. You're awake." Dean said with a smile, as he and Sam entered the room and settled themselves into the chairs near her bed.

"Mmm… What happened?" Try as she might, Kaitlyn was having trouble putting the pieces together of what had taken place.

"We were hoping you could tell us that." Dean took a sip from his coffee and watched Kaitlyn. She still looked drained.

"What's the last thing you remember?" Sam asked in the quiet, sympathetic voice he used when trying to get information from witnesses without spooking them.

"Um…" Kaitlyn closed her eyes for a moment. "Feeling like I'm coming home." She said as she looked up at Sam. Knowing this was not as concrete an answer as they had hoped for, she continued, "I remember pretty much everything up to… the, uh… I remember coming to, feeling a bit like Jade, and then the alarms going off in Thomas' room. After that, it's kind of blurry."

"Jade?" Dean asked.

Kaitlyn gave a small smile. "She's a character from a book I read. She died while getting a reading from someone. Anyway," she waved dismissively at the comment, "that's it."

"Well then, you remember pretty much everything. You were having trouble staying conscious. The doctors said it was just an extreme case of exhaustion. So they checked you in for some R & R. But you're fine, otherwise." Sam was getting the distinct impression that Kaitlyn was not telling them everything. And, if she remembered as much as she said, he had a few questions for her, like - why had she kicked him out of Thomas' mind and prevented him from helping her. She had to have known it could kill her.

Just then the doctor came in and, seeing Kaitlyn awake, did a quick exam and declared her fit to leave, with the usual warnings about taking care of her health and if she has any further problems to call his office. He wrote a prescription for sleeping pills and went on his way.

Dean offered to pick up the paperwork and get the car. He mumbled something to himself and glanced at Sam who nodded before Dean disappeared. Obviously, Sam wanted to talk with Kaitlyn and thought it best to do it alone.

Kaitlyn grabbed her clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When she came back into the room, Sam was watching her.

"So… What happened?" Sam asked.

"You were pretty much there for all of it."

"No, not all of it. Why did you kick me out? Why did you close the door behind me?"

Kaitlyn glanced up at Sam a little surprised. But, then again, he hadn't seen what she did, so of course he wouldn't know. She sighed heavily and walked over to the window. After a few seconds, Sam wasn't sure she was going to tell him. "Kaitlyn…"

She continued to stare out the window. "I'm not… sure… exactly. I mean, I know _what_ happened, for the most part, I'm just not sure _why_."

Sam stood, watching and waiting. He gave her time to sort out her thoughts. She'd been through a lot and he didn't want to push her.

"After you went through the door, it slammed shut. I was confused at first. I hadn't closed it, and Thomas was dead. When I turned around… I saw 'It.' I saw the yellow-eyed demon."

Sam's mind started racing with questions and it took great restraint for him to keep quiet. He was afraid, though, that if he interrupted, Kaitlyn would not finish what she was saying and he didn't want to start speculating until he had all of the information.

"He slammed the door. I don't know if he was expecting you to come back or not, but I wasn't going to give him the opportunity to get to you if I could help it. So I pushed you away to prevent you from getting back in. It drained me, though… of anything I had left."

_Kaitlyn slid to the ground after expending the remains of her energy to keep Sam away. "You can't touch me." She said between pants. She didn't know how she was still sitting, let alone talking._

"_Maybe. Not yet," the Demon said with his usual air of cockiness. He approached Kaitlyn as she sat trembling with the effort of staying upright, her strength gone. "You robbed me of a valuable asset, today."_

_Kaitlyn just glared. As the walls shook around her, she felt herself fall the rest of the way to the ground. She would not be making it out of this, but that was okay. They had won the day and, as an added bonus, they'd hurt the Demon and his infamous plans._

_He knelt down and smiled at her. "Oh, you really don't think you could do anything to hinder me, do you?" He chuckled._

_Kaitlyn smiled in defiance. "And yet…," she trailed off. If he could read her mind, he knew what she was thinking. He'd admitted that they robbed him. You can't rob someone of something that's not valuable to them. He probably had a contingency plan, but they'd still thwarted him. If not, it didn't really matter. But she was done fighting, and closed her eyes._

"_No, not yet. Listen to me… Come on, wakey-wakey." He nudged Kaitlyn until she opened her eyes to look at him. "Know this: I'm saving your life."_

Kaitlyn's brow furrowed. "He…" She looked at Sam and then back out the window.

"What? What'd he do?" Sam grew concerned.

"He kept me alive. I'm not sure how, or why. I passed out and the next thing I remember was seeing you - your light – guiding me home. After that it's just disconnected images and then nothing until waking up."

Sam frowned. "But why? Why would he _want_ you alive?" He believed that she told him what she remembered, but it didn't make sense.

Kaitlyn just shrugged. She took a breath and looked up at Sam, trying to gauge his reaction. She could feel his confusion and frustration, even concern. Something unspoken passed between them - mutual fear of what the future held and a promise to keep fighting.

Dean took this moment to re-enter the room. He glanced at his brother. He could feel the tension in the room, but, out of respect for their privacy, he didn't push for answers. There would be plenty of time to talk to his brother later. "So… All set when you are."

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The men dropped Kaitlyn off at her studio.

"How are you going to get your car?" Sam asked.

"Oh, I've got connections," Kaitlyn said with a wink. "I'll just get it towed back. Where are you guys off to?"

"Well, while you were sleeping, Sammy here found a town that seems to be plagued with sleep psychosis. We're going to go check it out."

"Huh. That's different. Hey," Kaitlyn paused to make sure she had their attention. "Thanks. A lot. I was hoping to help you, but you ended up helping me - more than I can say. I was so ready to jump into this fight. I didn't realize how totally unprepared I was." _And what it could do to those around me_. "I'm sorry. For getting you involved."

"Meh. It's what we do." Dean smiled proudly.

"Yeah, well… Thanks." Kaitlyn took Dean's hand in hers. "You take care of your brother. And yourself."

"It was nice to meet you, Kait," Dean stated sincerely. She had not turned evil. She hadn't killed anyone. She offered hope for the journey ahead.

"You too," she reached up and gave him a peck on his cheek. Dean ducked his head sheepishly and rounded the car to the driver's side.

Taking Sam's hand, Kaitlyn said, "Practice, practice." She smiled. "Listen, I'll be here if you need… anything - even if it's just to talk. And, when you're ready to learn more... " Sam nodded. Kaitlyn stood on her tippy-toes to give Sam a peck on the cheek, too. "Let me know what you find out."

"I will."

Kaitlyn stepped away from the car and watched as the men got into the car and drove away. She waved once. She was connected to them now; her fate bound with theirs, so she knew she'd see them again. In the meantime, she had work to do, and a war to prepare for.

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The End

A/N For those who are interested, and have not already done so, you can read the story of the sleep psychosis incident in J.A. Carlton's "Fragment" (Rated M for Mature :-) ). Fasten your seatbelt for a wild ride. And don't be surprised when you find yourself screaming and hiding your eyes at times, but man, the ride's worth it. Thrills and chills.

Thank you to all who have journeyed with me. This is my first completed fic ever. Thanks for the reviews and encouragement. Thanks also to my editors extraordinaire - Mom and mei mei. And, of course, thanks to my brilliant beta and friend, J.A. Carlton.


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